The Follower
by myBlueprints
Summary: We go back to the 18th Century, to where Ichabod meets Abbie for the first time. A long (short) story of how they transition from this to that.
1. Chapter 1

He met her while he was still an official British soldier-that was by moral and virtue. They resided in camps of tents, and only a few camp followers were permitted per camp. His camp had fifteen followers, and she was among those. Ordinarily, only ten followers were allowed, but in their case, of the fifteen, only six were female, the rest were male.

Before he actually stood face to face with her, he heard stories from the other soldiers about her. They said she wasn't much of a trader as she was everything else, the nurse, the cook, the wash lady, the masseuse, everything balled into one small person. When she did trade, she outdid the others, as she was polite and indulging as much as the soldiers allowed, and they treated her well because of it. She was a common favourite among the soldiers, the camp dwellers; her cooking and beauty were well admired (though only to an extent; as white men who found black women overly pleasing to them, had no place in that era). He didn't listen to their words, because after all they were men who had been long away from the presence of women. He disregarded them.

Six days had passed after they'd set up camp there, when he actually stood in her presence. He was rather extremely starving that day, and the delicious broth she made didn't fill him. He couldn't wait for the serving lady to come around a second time, so he stood up and went to the food preparation area himself.

'I would like another helping,' he thrust the plate to the woman who stood on the other side of the table. She was looking into her pot stirring the contents calmly. She lifted her face to meet his eyes, and he forgot to breathe. Consciously, he forgot to exhale and draw breath. Simultaneously, she drew in a sharp breath through parted lips.

He was not enchanted, not amazed, not taken aback, he was stunned, simply stunned. He didn't think he could move if he tried. Never in his life had he come across such beauty. Her eyes shone with a light that was pure hope, her face a delicate oval of soft-looking skin and the perfect tone; he could nearly feel how her face would feel under his touch.

He felt a heavy compression inside his chest, then he remembered that he wasn't breathing. Gripping his plate extremely hard on the edges, he began drawing breath again. He cleared his throat, choosing to look down.

'Another helping you say?' Her voice brought his eyes to her again. Her way of speaking wasn't something he was used to, it wasn't formally proper, but neither was it improper, it was a mixture of both, an in between.

'Yes please.' He clumsily thrust the plate to her, and her fingers closed around his accidently on the plate. He was sure she would freeze and drop the plate, but she kept hold of it, only lifting her fingers enough to release his from under hers. Gently, she dished into the plate food enough for three people, giving the plate back to him with a small smile.

'I hope that is sufficient.'

'I certainly hope so,' he found himself smiling back at her. Her smile grew larger, infecting him to smile widely. He couldn't tell what it was about her that had him wanting to stand there before her all day, because he certainly didn't care if he didn't eat anymore, he just wanted to remain in her presence.

'Thank you,' he said after a while.

'That is what I am here for. Enjoy your meal sir,' she said before turning away from him and going away.

Whatever she was here for, he just wanted to see her again, and maybe learn something about her.


	2. Chapter 2

**I have no interest whatsoever in History, that means I didn't do my homework on historical facts. If you're put off by inaccuracies, please do not continue to read (I mean that in the nicest way possible).**

The night following the day he met her, he was called away to another camp for seventeen days. The night he left that particular camp, the very night he received word to travel, he subconsciously sought her out.

The camp followers camped separately from the soldiers, a little (very little) distance away. The genius behind that particular detail was purely for convenience, designed to aid the needy soldier whenever he felt the need to take care of himself, the distance only helping to maintain the soldier's (that of the female counterpart was hardly considered) privacy. Because of the short length the followers had to travel to their resting places, they usually lingered in the camp of the soldiers for as long as the soldiers were awake.

That night, he went around with the excuse (which he thoroughly believed) of checking that all was in order around the camp. He patrolled the camp six times in total, with an additional three times when he claimed to be doing a personal headcount before he left. Unknown to his conscious, he only made those multiple trips because the camp followers hovered around for that long, the minute the last of them left, he told himself that he had to ready himself for his journey. Without knowing the reason for his downcast spirit, he made his way back to his tent.

Later that night, or in the darkest hours of the following day, after he'd gotten a little sleep, he arose to leave for his destination. The downcast spirit refused to leave him, but he didn't dwell on it either. In the line of work he chose, a downcast spirit was hardly an issue, it came with the responsibility of fighting for something bigger, and of course with that responsibility, fear came, consequently bringing about a downcast spirit. He didn't pay any mind to it, instead he walked to the tent of the Commanding Officer for a his last briefing.

'Commander Lazlo,' he inclined his head to his superior.

'Ah!' the much older man held out a hand to him, 'Ichabod Crane. I trust you are prepared for the journey.' It wasn't a question, but he gave an answer in any case, 'Yes Sir, I await only your dismissal Sir.'

'Very well,' the man nodded twice, 'I shall dismiss you...after I have communicated with you what you ought to do.'

He was starting to worry all of a sudden, more than usual, and for no apparent reason. Although, he did feel an uncomfortable feeling nagging him somewhere inside his body that he couldn't pair with a reason. That too, he ignored.

'We are sending you over to the American camp...' the Commanding Officer told him.

The American camp? Over into the hands of the enemy? How would he survive on his own?

'The American camp Sir?' he asked, controlling his voice to remain as neutral as it could. The face of the man changed as though he had been challenged, 'Are you objecting the duty set out before you?'

'Not at all Sir, I was asking only for the sake of clarity Sir,' he answered quickly to redeem himself. If a soldier happened to refuse orders, his fate was never a good one. The Commanding Officer stared at him silently, Ichabod kept absolutely still and his eyes fixed to one spot, the sheet that divided the tent into two. He kept his eyes solely on the sheet that hung from the head of the tent, cascading to the floor like an overflow of something. For the briefest second, he thought he detected faint movement behind the sheet. He couldn't have, because the Officer neither shared his tent with anyone, nor did he own a parrot as he'd seen so many authority figures chose to do.

'Very well Crane,' the man in authority finally spoke, 'your mission is to infiltrate their camp, until you have gathered enough to aid us in bringing them down.'

He nodded in agreement with the instructions.

'Excellent,' the Commanding Officer pronounced as he held out his hand again, Ichabod took it, shaking it lightly.

'I have absolute confidence in you Crane, I know you will not let us down. You may be on your way.'

He understood that to be his dismissal, so he turned and exited the tent. Oddly, the nagging feeling did not leave him, and for an eternity, he stood on the spot wondering if he wasn't perhaps being sacrificed to the Americans under the pretence of being sent to spy on them. It happened in the past before, when bartering became hard, soldiers were sacrificed. He had half a mind to return to the Commanding Officer for questioning. His mind was changed however when he looked back, without reason, and there she stood. Not stood in truth, she was more emerging from the Commanding Officer's tent than standing at the entrance, a lamp in her hand, lighting her face up completely.

Something in him shattered, he couldn't explain what it was. Completely unaware, he turned his entire body around to face her. He couldn't believe it...the fact that she was emerging from the tent of the head authority of the camp could only mean one thing. One thing that even as he thought it stabbed sharply.

No, he groaned inside his head, but apparently, the groaning wasn't only in his head. Even with the distance between them, the light in her hand made him see the look of alarm on her face, which only strengthened his theory. Seemingly frightened, she shook her head vigorously as though conveying a message to him. He couldn't stand it any longer, not the discovery, not her beautiful face giving away her guilt and certainly not the amount of discomfort it was causing him just being there. He turned on his heels and walked away,


	3. Chapter 3

He wasn't fully set on the mission at hand, his impossibly explicit memory wouldn't let him forget the image he saw last before he left the camp. Continually and somewhat cruelly, his mind insisted on repeating that very image. The look of guilt on her face bothered him the most, he just knew it was unfeigned, he saw that clearly.

He tried every way to forget what he saw, to the point of singing ridiculous tunes that he raked from his brain. It didn't matter anyway, he told himself, what has she to do with me? Her private affairs are none of my concern, and besides, I encountered her for a moment. He told himself all sorts of things actually, all possible reasons to erase the unknown feeling he was feeling. He has never felt it before.

His journey went on with him only a tiny bit aware of how he was travelling, where he was going and what he was to do once he arrived there. It was that he couldn't let go, nor could he act as though he wasn't feeling some sort of way about the situation. And the strangest of all, he couldn't think of Commander Lazlo, any thought of him at all made him want to fire his firearm (one that he didn't have with him). To think he would be away seventeen days! The thought was near unbearable.

He arrived at the destination camp feeling wearier than he should've been feeling. He was rather surprised when they believed his invented back-story about being a traveller who got lost in the foreign country. He supposed they took him to be honest, because all he had was a map and compass (and his horse). Little did he know that the inner workings of his mind reflected on the outside, he appeared quite lost and distraught.

'Ichabod Crane,' he introduced himself to the General.

'Mr. Crane,' an ageing man with white hair shook his hand firmly, 'how can we assist you?'

'I seek shelter for a day. I have been journeying for three days and nights, and I fear I cannot continue further without a little rest.' The other man listened with a quiet observant expression, which unnerved Ichabod a bit.

'Of course Mr. Crane...you can settle here for this day...and excuse my bluntness, but you look terrible...'

'No offence taken...I have been wandering for days, I expect my appearance is not the best,' he lies, though wondering if he really did look as bad as the General said.

'Well,' the General placed a hand on his shoulder, 'our countries may be at war right now, but the humane spirit never dies. Here, you will never be treated as the enemy, you are most welcome.'

'I am truly grateful General.' The words of the General all of a sudden caused him to feel discomfort with deceiving the Americans.

'I shall ask one of my men to prepare a resting place for you, but I would insist that you please visit the nursing station...one of our triage nurses could prepare a mixture for any dehydration you may have suffered...'

Ichabod didn't want to see a triage nurse, he had a mission, and that mission could only be well planned when he was by himself, with room to think of his following steps in staying longer with the Americans. But courtesy had rules of its own. He accepted.

The triage tent was a large one, and he understood why, wounded men from the battlefield had to brought in and treated effectively without the worry of space availability (although, he knew that at times even a large tent wasn't always big enough). It was empty save for six women and two men, who he assumed were soldiers. One of the women noticed him and came his way.

'Is there a problem?' she asked, her face screwed in confusion. He noticed that she didn't have an American accent, it was peculiar that she didn't.

'No Miss,' he cleared her throat, 'I was sent here to receive aid for dehydration.'

Her eyes narrowed, 'You are not from this land are you sir?' She must've deduced that from his accent. He wasn't concerned, his priority was getting everyone to believe his lie no matter how little they mattered.

'I'm afraid not...I'm a traveller who lost his way.'

'From England?'

'Yes,' he replied, but wishing she would stop asking so many questions.

The woman smiled, 'Well I must say you do look bothered...getting lost in a foreign country...in any case, come with me.' She began walking and he followed her, pointedly ignoring that the other people in the tent now had their eyes fixed on him.

'You may have a seat here,' she showed him to a well arranged pile of sheets, 'I will be with you shortly.' She offered him a smile again, this one different from the first one, more reassurance and promise. When she smiled, he remembered a different smile, from a different woman, which sent sparks of life throughout his body. His heart sank at the memory.

**This is going to drag out quite a bit, because I need all these people for the story. Apology in advance, because I certainly don't like things that drag out**


	4. Chapter 4

Her name was Katrina, he learned that when one of the other nurses called to ask her something. Katrina, he repeated in his head, not as lovely as Grace, but still a good name. He realised that he'd never asked Grace for her name, that he knew it, was a result of her popularity, he's never actually heard it coming from her lips. He wondered how she would pronounce it...in the same manner as everyone else or did it roll off differently from her tongue? Surely it would sound differently, he would expect no less from her, such a vision of perfection she was.

'You seem to have improved greatly,' Katrina broke through his thoughts. He looked up to find her smiling down at him, a little relieved perhaps.

'Quite,' he lied (again). The dehydration mixture did nothing for him, because he wasn't dehydrated, in fact, it tasted

horribly. And he wanted to leave the tent to be alone.

'I am glad...would you object to a meal? I was heading out to my lodgings...would you care to join me?'

There was something about her smile and questions that had him thinking there was more than hospitality to it, she seemed eager to have him around her. The same couldn't be said for him. The more time he spent around Katrina, the more his mind thought of Grace, a woman who he'd spoken to for less than a few moments. He noticed that Katrina had a lovely shade of green eyes, but they were nothing like the beautiful brown orbs that belonged to Grace. When his mind pointed out that Katrina was pretty, the same mind drifted back to the beauty of Grace.

He thought up the best way to reject her politely, 'I am rather wearied Miss...perhaps after I've rested...'

'I believe you would rest better on a fed stomach,' she refused to be turned down. With that one sentence, Ichabod realised that she would insist until he gave in. He resigned.

'Very well Miss,' he tried not to sigh, hoping he didn't get himself into something he would regret later.

Did he ever regret accepting Katrina's invitation? Her cooking wasn't terrible, it wasn't bad either, it was just when he took the first bite, he expected to taste something familiar, something made by Grace. He immediately wanted to chuck the plate of food across the tent, but his manners ruled over his feelings. He regretted how animatedly she spoke to him, clearly not seeing that his lack of response to anything she said meant he wasn't interested.

'Miss...' he said after he'd forced the last of the meal down his throat.

'Call me Katrina please,' she suggested.

'Katrina...' he allowed the name to sound of his tongue with great disinterest, 'I am most grateful for the meal and your company, but I do need to rest.'

'Perhaps we could do it again,' her face lit up suddenly. Ichabod couldn't resist lifting an eyebrow, her insistence of having him around her bothered him somewhat. What interest could she possibly have in a lost traveller? His suspicion raised a little, he was on enemy territory after all.

'I very much doubt that will happen, I shall soon be on my way...' at the particular moment, he wished the words were true, that he wouldn't be staying in the camp long. Katrina's countenance fell significantly.

'That is quite a shame,' she said quietly, making him think that she was evaluating something.

'Quite,' he repeated, losing count of what number this lie had.

It was only later, when he'd freed himself from Katrina's presence that he thought that Katrina might have the same interest in him that he had in Grace.


	5. Chapter 5

He pondered reasons over, he thought of feigning sickness, but then he remembered Katrina...and her interest him. He thought every second he was supposed to be resting, solely concentrating on how best to remain in the camp, but no valid ideas surfaced. Feigning sickness was the only thing that would hold, he found himself resigning to the idea. After all, it wasn't about him or his feelings, it was for the overall benefit of the British soldiers over the Americans. He was completely ready to sacrifice himself into the presence of Katrina against his wishes, if it meant the success of the operation. Until the General called him into his tent.

'Mr. Crane,' the man was pouring something into two goblets, offering one to Ichabod.

He accepted the drink, 'General.'

'I'm not going to beat about...I know the truth.'

Ichabod's heart started to race, he was caught out, he would surely be killed.

'General?' he tried to save himself by playing dumb.

The General wouldn't have any of it, 'Come now Mr. Crane, there is no need to deny that you are a soldier, I picked it up right away.'

He remained silent, further speaking would only be incriminating. The General placed a hand on Ichabod's shoulder.

'Do not be afraid Ichabod, I have a proposition for you.' Again Ichabod remained quiet, one word could deliver him into the trap that the entire conversation could be.

'As it is, I know of the potential you hold...and I believe having you on our team will greatly benefit us...what say you?'

Well, he never thought he would be a traitor, he was always the most loyal of all. All he wanted most was to please his father, after the war, he had plans of returning home. If he became a traitor, he could never return home, not to his family, and not to start the family he always dreamed of. But the General presented an interesting argument about tyranny before him, and he was sold, he agreed to being a traitor. His decision to defect very welcomed by the General.

'I'm quite sorry that you have to leave your friends and loved ones behind,' the General apologised.

'No need to be General, I doubt I will be missed.' He spoke those words with only person in mind. It was strange how he couldn't keep her from his thoughts, she strayed into even the tiniest thoughts that had nothing to do with her. Instead of thinking about the hurt of his father, or the disappointment of his fellow British soldiers, he thought of her, of never seeing her again. Not that it mattered anyway, because she didn't notice him anyway, and she belonged to someone else.

'Excellent then,' the General held out his hand for Ichabod.

Seventeen days turned into a month. A very busy month. He didn't return to the other camp. Not that he thought to, it was just that he did want to return to it one last time. For one reason alone. He knew that he would never be able to go back once he accepted to defect, and yet in the deepest of his heart he held hope...

He worked closely with the General, being sent on errands for all sorts of purposes. There had been two or three battles, but he neither fought in them, nor was he anywhere near them. The General sent him all over the land to acquire chests and deliver documents to far off locations. He never complained, his only fear being that on one of his various trips, he would be discovered by his former colleagues, and then he would surely be killed for being the traitor he turned out to be.

What he was thankful for the most in the month that he lived in the new camp, was that he never suffered any injuries, and therefore never had a reason to be around Katrina. It wasn't that she was unpleasant or hideous to look at, but somehow every time he was in proximity with her, his mind stubbornly thought of Grace. He thought the thoughts would fade overtime, that Grace would disappear from his mind when he spent that much time away from his old life, but he was mistaken. Sometimes, he didn't even need to be near Katrina, all it took was a single word to trigger his mind to think of her, those were the times that he was caught completely off guard, which made the thoughts harder to get rid of. He would try as he might to block her out, but then his mind would cling to the beauty that was her smile, and he would give up trying to keep her from his mind. He didn't understand why it was that way, why he couldn't erase her from his being even after so many attempts. It was not as though he could have a relationship with her anyway...She belonged to another, perhaps she'd already pledged her heart to the Commander, or their relationship was purely of the physical nature; whatever it was (and if neither was the case), he would never be able to have relationship with her. Sadly, interracial relationships could not be openly displayed. If he were to be with Grace, he wouldn't want that fact hidden, he would want everyone to envy him for having conquered the heart of the most gorgeous woman he has ever known, he wouldn't want to meet her in secret for time together. He wouldn't want secrecy of their relationship as though he were committing a sin. He knew the Bible well enough, and there was certainly no sin in loving another human. Not that he loved Grace, because how could one fall in love after less than a day of knowing another person. It wasn't possible, no such thing existed. And yet...he couldn't forget her...

Everything about him went on as usual. Katrina didn't stop trying to entice him into her company when he had nothing to do, and he didn't stop making up excuses to avoid time with her. The entire truth was that he feared being alone with her. Katrina was an attractive person, she was charming, and had about her the aura of serenity. He feared that if he lingered in her presence for too long, he would start to forget Grace, that he would surrender to the somewhat subtle woos of Katrina. Compared to Grace, he knew Katrina much more, he had more encounters with her, that alone could be enough to drive Grace out from his mind. He didn't want that to happen, despite the fact that he would never again lay eyes on her, he didn't want to forget her.

But he lived, and he did as he was told, his own private matters remained known only to himself, never telling anyone of the slight emptiness he began to feel as each day passed on. He lived and he worked, carefully ignoring the dull ache he couldn't properly define, because it was a new feeling for him.

He just lived.

One day, some days into the second month, he was assigned by the General to deliver a message to a man of science named Benjamin Franklin. Ichabod knew nothing of the Franklin man, all he had were the tales of some of the soldiers who had the displeasure (according to them) of meeting him. Ichabod didn't give ear to their words, he went on his mission determined to deliver the message and return safely to the camp. The Franklin man resided a long way away from the American camp, two days' travel by horse, but Ichabod was willing nonetheless. He reached his destination just as a storm started gathering in the skies. Scarring to his mind, he understood why the other soldiers narrated meeting Franklin a displeasure. The man, as advanced in age as he was, took baths of the worst kind. Out in the open without care of who saw and who didn't. Ichabod felt uncomfortable being around him, what with him being undressed and going about as though it were the most natural thing in the world. He refused to stay until the sky cleared of the coming storm, no storm would keep him confined with an old man who wouldn't cover his bits. Instead, he led his horse off his return journey. He wasn't expected back for another three days at the camp, but he couldn't remain in the company of Mr. Benjamin. Not only did the man not clothe himself, he endlessly spoke of himself, his work, his work, himself, his alphabet...Ichabod couldn't stand such egoisticalness.

The storm began not long after he was a good distance from Franklin. To save his horse from the rain, he walked in the paths in the forest, he didn't get nearly as wet as he would've gotten had he followed the ordinary path.

An hour later, he was soaking, because not even the tree branches could shelter him from the thick rain. He persisted in his walking, especially when his horse was stubbornly moving forward begrudgingly. At long last, when he was a footstep away from giving up, falling under tree and waiting for the storm to die down, he saw in the distance, a little village of tents on the edge on the forest. He couldn't quite make out how many exactly there were, just that he had at last found shelter from the rain. He pulled his horse (extremely upset by now to even look at him) in great haste towards the tents.

'Hallo?' he shouted at the top of his lungs at the entrance of the first tent. The logical thing to do would be to enter considering the situation, but courtesy dictated better of him. Doubting that he was heard, he called out a second time, and a third, even a fourth, he was getting ready to move on to the next tent when the flap was pulled back. All he saw was a hand gesturing for him to come inside, he did, pulling the horse with him.

For the first moments, he didn't notice that there was a fire burning in the tent, but as the horse pulled itself free from his grasp to the fire, he pulled off his hat and wrung it out. He looked around for a place to sit, but found none. Then only his mind returned to him, he wasn't back in the camp, and certainly not in his tent. In there he was a visitor, he looked around to thank the person who opened up their shelter to him.

He almost didn't breathe when his eyes found his host, more specifically, the eyes of his host. He couldn't believe it, of all the people, of all the tents, he entered into the one of the woman he thought he would never again see.

'Grace?' he wasn't sure if she heard him or not, because she remained completely still, her eyes bulging out of their sockets. Fear. He recognised it instantly, he didn't know how he knew it was fear, just that he did. Grace was afraid.

But of what? Him? Surely not.


	6. Chapter 6

He wanted to call her name again, but he stopped himself. The rain was still falling down, harder it seemed than before, she wouldn't hear him. He also thought of walking over to her, but again, he stopped himself, she looked really afraid of him. He stood where he was, his hat in both his hands and his eyes fixed only on her. She stood, on the other side of the tent, close to the fire, her hands clutched together in front of her, and her eyes shot out. The horse next to her apparently, grew tired of being on its hooves it sank on its knees next to the fire. Ichabod was glad at least that one of them was welcome. She looked at the horse for a moment, then back at him.

It was in the moment she looked at the horse that his thoughts started coming together. He remembered that a little way away from him stood the woman he had kept in his mind for so long. He was in the presence of the very person he had wished to see for the longest time. A rush of excited relief washed over him like the rain. And then she looked back at him with the same expression as before. Putting it aside that she was probably afraid of him, he took carefully slow steps towards her. She didn't move away, which he expected she would do as he drew nearer.

'A good evening to you Miss,' he said as loud as he thought she would hear. He made sure not push his luck and get too close to her, keeping distance between them could earn him her trust. Grace only looked at him, but her face had changed, she no longer looked afraid of him, the fear was still there, but he could tell that she wasn't afraid of him.

'Thank you for your kindness at this time,' he tried to get words from her, 'I am grateful.' She shrugged as though it was nothing.

'I really do appreciate you taking us in Miss.' The want to have words come from her mouth was so great that he would continue to thank her until she was fed up. Grace smiled a little, whether at his insistence or at him, he didn't know, he just knew that he liked her smiling, it meant they were getting somewhere.

'May I warm myself at your fire?' Being that much closer to her, he realised that he didn't need to speak so loud for her to hear him.

She nodded, her hands coming apart to gesture to the fire. He moved forward and made to sit down, but she stopped him.

'Forgive me, but I would suggest that you remove your garments to dry.' As soon as she had said the words, she turned her head away from him. The thought hadn't crossed his mind, yes he felt wet and slightly bothered by the way the garments clung to his body (not to mention the chill they were producing in his body), but he hadn't thought to remove them.

'I'm afraid I have no others to clothe myself in,' he confessed. The ones he had on, had to simply do, there was no way around it.

'I do,' she said hopefully, her attention returning to him. He didn't say anything after that, he looked at her hopeful face and words left him. She was a vision, her eyes held so much warmth, her lips perfectly shaped and the skin on her face called out to be touched, to be felt. He had no words.

'Would you accept to wearing the clothing I have?' she asked, her face turning sober. The change returned him to his senses.

As honestly as he could, without offending her he said, 'As honoured as I am to have knowledge that you would consider sharing with me, I must refuse...it is unheard of that a man dress himself in the attire of a woman...and I fear I would not be comfortable in a dress.'

She laughed. Her face burst to life in laughter, genuine laughter that he hasn't heard since he couldn't recall when. She laughed and he watched her eyes close elegantly and her cheeks swell in delight. Her laugh was infectious, he found himself fighting off his own urge to laugh, only allowing for a smile to surface on his face.

'What is the cause of your laughter, if I may..?' he wasn't certain why she was laughing. She continued to laugh until she gradually stopped, 'Forgive me,' she said, a beautiful smile still lingering around her face, 'it's just...your words made me laugh sir.'

He frowned, both at how she referred to him as 'sir' and that she laughed at his words, what did she mean by that?

'My words made you laugh, how so?'

'I suppose I expected that you knew I wasn't talking about my own garments...and I pictured you in one of my dresses...forgive me.'

Well, he thought, that was reason enough to laugh. The thought of himself, as tall as he was in one of her dresses...the dress would barely make it to his knees. He laughed too, only for a moment, remembering to rectify something.

'I believe we have never been properly introduced,' he held out a wet hand, 'Ichabod Crane.' He didn't want her to keep referring to him as sir. Slowly, she raised her hand to meet his. When she placed her hand in his, he felt warmth settling around his wet and cold one.

'Abbie,' she said softly, gripping his hand a little harder.

'Abbie?' That was news to him, from what he knew, her name was Grace, at least that was what he learned from the soldiers in the camp. Was it possible that he had the wrong person, an exact copy of the Grace he thought he knew?

'Yes.'

'I was under the impression that your name is Grace,' he said, not letting go of her hand. He liked that it was delicately small and warm compared to his.

'It is...Abbie is what my family calls me...I have a grandmother whose name is Grace...'

'Only your family calls you Abbie?' he asked, curiosity building up in him.

'Yes,' she said.

'Interesting,' he muttered thoughtfully. The fact that she told him her name was Abbie, not Grace, even though he wasn't a family member had to mean something.

'I must get you those clothes before you catch a cold,' she tugged her hand free from his. He missed the contact immediately, ad her presence as she turned and walked from him.

**I'm sorry for this chapter, it's just I had (have still) these cute ideas for them in the tent while it rained, but I'm a little stuck (not really) so I'm just trying to find a way to get to those moments, plus I don't know how long the rain will last so...bear a little longer with me if you will. And yes, now I can start calling Abbie by her name, Grace was a bit too much for me!**


	7. Chapter 7

She brought him the spare clothing almost immediately. He made a point of not looking at her as she did so; the tent was not big, and neither did it have any sort of compartments separating it. From the looks of it, she'd set up temporary camp for the night or two days at most, hence the sand (and fire) in the tent. Had it been more than temporary, she would've lined the floor with protective layering against the sand.

'Here you go sir,' her voice interrupted his thoughts. Before he could turn around, she was standing in front of him, holding out the clothing she spoke of.

'I don't know if you are able to fit, but I suppose they are better than the wet ones,' she smiled quietly, infecting him to smile too.

'And one of your dresses.' He only said that part to get a bigger smile from her, and did he. She gave a short mirthful laugh. His delight had no end. Neither could he confine his heart to beating its regular rhythm at the sight of her beauty when she laughed.

'And one of my dresses,' she pushed the garments into his hands, 'I will excuse you as you change.' His hands closed around the items without her letting go.

'It's pouring outside, where will you go?' he asked in concern, failing (as he planned) on keeping his hand from closing around hers. Grace-no, not Grace, Abbie didn't seem to notice that his hand was covering hers, she didn't look affected. It disappointed him a little.

'I'll be in here, only closer to the entrance. I should afford you some privacy.' Abruptly, she pulled her hand from under his, walking from him once again. It had to be a gift, he thought, that she could slip from him so easily before he had time to register it. For now, it didn't matter, it was still raining outside, and neither of them would be going anywhere. He only hoped the rain would last all night.

He dressed in the dry attire in the furthest corner from her. It felt better to be out of the wet clothes, he was even beginning to feel warmer, he wouldn't need to sit at the fire after all. He looked over at the fire, his horse had drifted off to sleep.

'Miss Grace?' he called without realising he called her Grace, 'where shall I place my clothing to dry?' Not giving him an answer, she faced him. He waited for her to say something, she didn't.

'Miss Grace?'

'Abbie,' she said, 'you can call me Abbie sir.'

'Only if you refer to me by my given name in turn,' he bargained, 'I rather dislike being 'sir'.' No he didn't, he didn't mind being called sir by any other person. It was just, coming from Grace it felt oddly inappropriate, it was as though he was her employer.

'Ichabod?' she asked with an expression he couldn't place, 'Do you have a second name?'

He thought about saying no, telling her that he only had that one name which his parents gave him, because he didn't like his second name, it was plain and common, nothing like Ichabod.

'Nathaniel. After Nathaniel Bailey the lexicographer.' He didn't particularly like the name, but he was fine with his namesake.

She shook her head, 'I don't know him.'

'He made a great contribution to the-'

'I don't really care either, I'm sorry,' she said as she started to walk to him. He couldn't shake the feeling as he watched her that she was not the sort of woman who could be dictated, she most probably had a will of her own and didn't allow to be coerced into anything.

Carefully it seemed, so that they didn't make contact, she took the clothes from his hands, 'Let's hope these dry before you have to go.' She made a task of spreading his clothes across a sheet on the floor next to the fire, quietly moving about the tent. At last, she was done by spreading another sheet on the other side of the fire, a little way from the sleeping horse. She gestured for him to the sheet, meaning for him to settle on it just as she was doing. He didn't need a second invitation, he took the chance to be near her instantly. The only other time he'd been extremely close to her was the time he first met her. Then, unlike now, he'd been caught off guard.

'May I be completely honest with you?' he asked as he sat down, leaving barely enough space between them.

'I don't like being lied to,' she told him.

He took comfort in the fact that she didn't move away from him, even though she sounded peeved, 'I never thought I would see you again.'

'Did you want to see me again?' she asked.

For the second time since he entered her tent, he considered lying to her. Saying 'no' would easily break that conversation.

'Yes,' he admitted without shame, 'I did.' He realised that lying wouldn't do any good.

'Why?' her face took on such an innocent look that he was involuntarily forced to confess, 'I have considered not telling you the truth, but I have come to realise that it wouldn't be wise...I will be honest with you...'

He said nothing after that, he didn't know how to continue. He wasn't certain himself what it was exactly that pulled him to her, or why he couldn't keep her from his mind. How could he tell her why he wanted to see her when he didn't have a pronounced reason?

'Will you tell me or should I guess?'

'I don't know...' was his answer.

'I do,' she looked him right in the eyes. Suddenly his heart was going wayward again.

'And, I'm just going to tell you now so you know...I'm getting married.'

He heard everything she said, except for some reason the last part, he blinked, 'Pardon?'

'I'm getting married,' she said clearly.

'I don't understand.' He really didn't, not one bit. Nothing she was saying made sense, all he could hear were senseless words.

'Which part? The getting married part? Or the me part?'

'You're getting married?' At last he could hear what she was saying. She was getting married. She said she was getting married. Why did that make his heart sink greatly?

She took a moment before she answered, 'Yes.'

Honestly, he expected that her answer would be no, that she wasn't getting married. His mouth opened on its own accord, 'To who?' It had nothing to do with him, but that didn't stop him from wanting to know.

'Commander Lazlo?' he remembered the scene of the night he left. His heart sinks all over again.

She adjusted to face him, 'Are you blind? You do know that I'm not white? I could never marry a white person if I wanted.' Those words slashed right through him. Of course he knew that she was of a different colour, but it never mattered to him. At the moment, he felt those words cut deeper than most things have in his life. Never in his life did he detest the segregation and enslavement system more than he did now, why was it that all people weren't considered equal? Did not the same God create them all?

'I'm aware-' he began. He was aware of the current situation, he was also aware that she wasn't enslaved, perhaps she'd been freed before he arrived. He wasn't going to enquire about that now.

'It's not him,' she cut him off, 'Look, I won't lie to you either...I feel something, I'm not sure what, but I feel something...which is crazy because I met you for that little time some time ago...but I'm getting married.'

It wasn't only on his end he concluded, she too felt something-whatever it was. Another thing interested him, 'Commander Lazlo...I saw you...'

'You know that he's dead? He died right after everyone thought you were killed,' she explained, 'I used to treat him for abdominal pains that he had. He never wanted anyone to know, and I was the only person he could trust not to tell. He treated me like his own child, he saw past my skin colour.'

Every word she said was news to him, the Commander's death, his illness, and most especially that the two were never involved. He felt like a scumbag for thinking the things he did about her and the Commander. To avoid her seeing his shame, he looked away from her.

'I thought you died.'

Never in his life had he ever heard words spoken so brokenly. The amount of emotion in them tugged at him fiercely. He faced her.

'You thought I died?' he didn't realise he was whispering. She could only nod. All the while he was in the American camp, he never thought of what she thought, he only thought that she was happy with the Commander.

'I didn't realise,' he continued to say, 'I am ever so sorry.'

'Never mind,' she waved it away, 'it doesn't matter anymore. You need to rest.' He hardly processed her words when she got up from the sheet.

'We will have to share a sheet,' she said looking down at him, 'I hope that doesn't bother you.'

'Not in the least,' he replied quickly, more surprised that their conversation ended on such a note.

'Okay,' her face lit up in a shy smile, 'I will get the something to cover us.'


	8. Chapter 8

He didn't sleep, not that he didn't want to, it was knowing that he was sleeping next to a woman he felt something for. No improper or ungentlemanly thoughts entered his mind, yet he couldn't find sleep. He shifted a few times, as much as he could without disrupting her sleep, but mostly he tried to think of who she would be getting married to. Of course, he didn't know the people she knew, but that didn't stop him from trying to guess who she would soon belong to. The only comforting thought, although very slightly, was that she never had a relationship with the Commander.

Before morning broke, he gathered himself up quickly, taking the opportunity to dress in his own clothes before she awoke. He saw where she'd placed the lamp and matches the previous night, he lit the lamp for better sight. The clothes were still damp even though they had been laid out before the fire. He didn't mind, dampness was better than wetness, besides, they would surely dry on his journey. Neatly, he folded the clothes he'd been wearing, stopping only to wonder who they belonged to, perhaps they belonged to the man she was going to marry. His thoughts started running away, what did that man do, where was he from, did he really treasure Abbie? It was no use, he concluded, thinking about all those things, that man knew Abbie before he did, and he was marrying her, that had nothing to do with him. Except, as he placed the folded clothes on the spot he had slept, he caught a glimpse of Abbie's face nearly completely hidden by the sheet, he couldn't stop thinking that it had everything to do with him. There before him, lay a woman he knew little to nothing about, yet he couldn't tame his mind to let her go. He had spent time around woman before, but none of them ever had the effect she had on him, not even Katrina, who he knew more about, and was very charming at times (when she wasn't trying to entice him), could replace Abbie from his thoughts. Who Abbie was marrying, had so much to do with him.

The hardest part came, he had to go. There was no way around it, he had to leave, or he would risk being discovered by his former comrades, who knew if they camped near that area. Whether he wanted it that way or not, he had to be going on his way. He roused the horse, which he deeply hoped would stubbornly rebel and sleep a little longer, but it didn't. It stood up and his heart dropped in disappointment. This was really goodbye for him and Abbie.

'Abbie,' he called softly. He wanted to pat her, but he chose not to.

'What is it?' she asked, her voice heavy with sleep.

'I am afraid I have to be on my way.' He listened for a response that never came. She neither moved nor spoke for some time, it unnerved him.

'Abbie?' he called again. He refused to leave without seeing her face. If he was never going to see her again, he wanted one final memory of her.

'What is it?' she asked the same question as before.

'I'm leaving,' he told her, his voice louder than the first time. Again, he awaited a response that he didn't get. More than he was willing to admit, it angered him a little that she wasn't responding to him.

'Grace,' he stooped down to her and pulled the cover from her with no gentleness, the lamp, he placed near her. Her eyes shot open.

'You're leaving,' she said to him, 'I heard you the first time.'

'It didn't seem like it,' he mentioned.

'I heard you,' she closed her eyes and turned her head away from him. For a moment, he had no idea what to do next. It appeared that she was upset with him; either he had done something or he had done something he couldn't remember.

'So pray tell,' he tried to keep the desperation from his voice, 'why you said nothing.'

'Am I supposed to say something?'

'A farewell would be nice,' he said quickly. He wished she would face him, the decision of keeping her back to him disturbed him.

'Farewell,' she said after a moment. That did it for him, his inside raged with violence that he could only think to describe as passion. She wasn't treating him like he deserved, or at least how he wanted her to treat him. How could she take his departure so lightly after confessing that she too felt some sort of thing for him, whatever it was. Forgetting manners, he grabbed her less than gently by the shoulder and turned her roughly back to her. Immediately she sat up, her eyes wide. She didn't speak, but if she did, words of fury would be coming from her mouth, her eyes said that much. He didn't particularly care about what would come out of her mouth either, he cared that she treated him as a human who had a beating heart, a possibly beating heart for her.

'Farewell? Is that all you have to say?' he wanted more from her, anything else but that alone. Abbie kept her silence, the only challenge being the way she looked ready to attack him.

'Answer me that in the least,' he demanded in the softest voice he could in his current mood. What happened next, he would always remember. She scurried over into him directly, stealing the breath he had from his lungs, he never expected such a bold act from her. His mind told him to move back even a little, but his body didn't hear him, he stayed paralysed to the spot.

'What would you like me to tell you?' she asked, her face hardly away from his own.

'I...expected that you would say a proper and formal goodbye,' he swallowed. Having her so close wasn't such a good thing for him.

'I don't want you to go,' she looked down, not before he saw the sadness in her eyes, 'I shouldn't care that you're leaving, I shouldn't want you to stay, but I do...what kind of person does that make me?'

Now he understood, she was detached earlier so that she wouldn't have to confront her feelings as he left, that stabbed him right in the heart. Her problem was that she was getting married, but she held feelings for him.

'Abbie,' he urged softly, 'look at me.' She didn't, she kept her head bowed and her eyes low. That forced him to place his hand under her chin to lift her face up. His fingers trembled more than they ever had in his entire life. He was touching her, actually touching her precious face.

'Please look at me,' he requested softly, even though he had already lifted her face.

'I am sorry,' she told him, 'I barely know you and here I am...'

'You have no need to apologise Abbie...I myself do not want to go. I fear that I might never see you again. What sort of person does that make me?' She ghosted a smile of appreciation at his words.

'You're not alone in feeling this way,' he told her, his hand somehow refusing to let go of her face.

'I don't want you to go,' she repeated. He had no words to answer that, instead, his free hand searched for her hand and brought it to his cheek. He pressed the back of her hand to his cheek, leaving it there for as long as she allowed it.

'I will never see you again will I?' Abbie asked him, knowing full well what the answer was. He could only shake his head.

'Then I beg you remain a little longer, until sunrise,' she asked desperately, 'The British camp further away from here, you will not be discovered. Please remain a little longer.'

He thought about remaining himself, he wanted to with all his might, he wanted to stay and talk to her, learn about her, share things with her, hold her hand as he did so...even now as he held her chin, he wanted his hand to roam around the full frame of her face, to feel her delicate looking skin under his palm, but he couldn't.

'I'm afraid I cannot,' he said, finally dropping her hand from his cheek only because he thought she would do it in response to his rejection.

'I understand,' she said, though her voice betrayed her. Perhaps she did understand, she just wasn't willing to fully understand why he was choosing to leave. Again, his heart was stabbed for her.

'Forgive me,' he begged, 'I cannot stay much longer, I have to be on my way.' Immediately, he moved from her and got on his feet.

'I thank you for your hospitality,' he forced himself to say as he towered above her, 'and also...I wish you all the happiness in your marriage.' It was a lie, he wished only that she would never get married. To anyone at all. Her response was only a small nod, and then she was lying back down and covering her face with the sheet. He took that to be her goodbye. He waited a moment longer before gathering his horse and blowing out the light. He left the tent feeling lost, with no sense of direction.

**What I'm going to say next has nothing to do with you the reader, but you should know that when it comes to writing, I'm extremely sensitive. Nasty comments are just plain hurtful okay? If you don't like something, don't be mean about it. Not all of us are A-list writers, and so yes, a lot of other people's work WILL be better. Abstain from leaving NASTY please. It's hard enough posting something you're not sure people will like or not, but to receive a review of how your work sucks and you should stop, that's nearly satanic. I don't mean to offend anyone, just wanted to get that out of the way.**


	9. Chapter 9

He lived. Thoughts of Abbie consumed him a lot more than before, but he lived.

He truly thought he wouldn't make it in the world with the weight that he carried in his heart. He imagined that the pure torment of knowing he would never again see Abbie, would kill him before he had the chance to die on the battlefield. It didn't.

He lived and he served. He became an American, rightfully and properly protected from the hands of the British. And he lived.

He lived, but he was dead.

Nothing could make him feel alive enough to resurrect him from the death that was his life. He felt hopeless, he couldn't enjoy the simple things around him, his laughs were only for appearances, because inside his heart, he felt too dead to enjoy the pleasure that was laughter. What did he have to laugh about?

Some time passed and he trained (with little success) his mind to stray away from Abbie. He told himself that he was only pulled to her because he knew nothing about her, that the mystery she was to him, made him want to be near her. He believed the lie for a while, until he didn't believe it anymore. He knew the truth. And the truth was, he was more than enamoured with her, it was more than attraction what he felt for her. As impossible as thought it to be, he was falling day by day more in love with someone he barely knew. Each day that went by without seeing her, only strengthened his feelings and longing for her.

He fought in six battles, delivered several important documents. And he continued to live.

He sought solace in the company of Katrina. She made good company, she spoke of sensible things and had admirable dreams, dreams he could understand and relate to. Katrina was a wonderful woman, she understood why he chose the Americans over his own people, because she too chose the Americans. They got along well, even her cooking was better than when he first knew her. He wanted to feel more than fondness for her, he wished to see her as more than just his companion, but his stubborn heart wouldn't allow him to get rid of Abbie that easily. He told himself that he wasn't using Katrina as a substitute for the person he couldn't be with and he believed it. He believed it wholeheartedly.

Some more time passed; he started teaching himself to envision a life with Katrina. She was always there for him, she tended to his injuries, her presence made him forget the things that troubled him. A life with her could surely be the next best thing, he thought. The next best thing, his mind insisted, she would always be the next best thing, she would never be the best, because with her, he would be settling.

'Do you ever think of starting your own family?' he asked Katrina once. Her reply was straightforward; he even felt that she was hinting at something. Her feelings for him were not a secret, not to him, not to the General who kept urging him to entertain the idea of settling down with Katrina. She was a good woman, the General told him, she would make an excellent wife. Often the General asked him what was holding him back from proposing marriage to Katrina; he never once answered that question.

After two months, the General called him to his tent one evening in summer. For the past two months they'd set up camp in Sleepy Hollow, and Ichabod was growing confident that they wouldn't be leaving the little village for a period of time.

'Ichabod,' without wasting time, the General began, 'I would like that you join me tomorrow night.'

'Where sir?'

'An acquaintance of mine is hosting a dinner and he has requested my presence, I would like that you come with me.'

'A dinner?' He actually wanted to know who the said acquaintance was, but those words worked themselves out of his mouth.

'Yes,' the General said, 'It's rather a fancy event, not far from here...and Katrina will be going, I daresay that will please you.' The way the General said it made Ichabod squirm uncomfortably. It wasn't that he wasn't trying to see Katrina as a woman, the way a man should see a woman...the pressure he felt he was under to feel something for her was the problem, that pressure made him uncomfortable. It made it that much harder to feel something for her.

'Katrina will be going?'

The General nodded enthusiastically, 'She knows the host too, more than I in fact. It would be the perfect opportunity to declare your affections for her.'

Ichabod tried not to sigh aloud. It was sad that to Katrina and the General, he had feelings for Katrina; they only believed him too diffident to do anything about it. He couldn't blame them for thinking so, he did spend a lot of his free time with Katrina, and whenever they were together, he was different. The thing they didn't know was that he was distracting anyway he could.

'General,' he tried to stop that particular conversation before it grew, but the other man stopped him.

'No need to explain Ichabod,' he patted the shoulder of Ichabod, 'I more than anyone know how the heart operates when women are involved.'

To put the conversation to an end, Ichabod agreed to attend the dinner, 'Who is this acquaintance of yours if I may?' Not that it would make a difference if he knew the person or not, but he wanted to know.

'Lachlan Fredericks,' the General told him, 'He's the Lord of Fredericks Manor, perhaps you've heard of it?'


	10. Chapter 10

**This chapter is 2 chapters in one; so yes, it's extremely long. Most of the content in the first part is just unnecessary scenes that I could've done without and added only for myself. The second part is way theatrical (and kind of, sort of poetic) for my standards. Just giving you a heads up...the good news is, we're coming to the end of the fic (YAY!)**

'Grandma!'

The two women who were conversing in the kitchen turned to the door. The much older of the two stepped forward to meet her granddaughters. She wasn't in the least surprised to find that the younger of her two granddaughters wasn't dressed for the dinner.

'Jennifer, why aren't you ready yet?' she asked her granddaughter. Her curly hair wasn't arranged neatly, some strands were lose from the bun she made, and she was still wearing her 'home' dress.

'Abbie doesn't want to do my hair,' Jenny whined, giving her sister a nasty look. Her sister ignored her by folding her arms across her chest and speaking to their grandmother.

''Grandma, I tried,' she said, 'but Jenny wouldn't sit still. I don't wanna do it anymore.' Their grandmother shook her head at them. Her granddaughters, whenever they were together, behaved much younger than they actually were. Sometimes she watched them and found it difficult to believe they were twenty-five and twenty-three respectively.

'You could at least put on a presentable dress,' their grandmother suggested as she turned back to the other woman in the kitchen.

'I apologise Miss Katrina, my granddaughters insist on giving me grey hair.' The other woman smiled politely, seemingly unaffected by what was happening.

'It's quite all right Grace,' she said through her smile.

Just then, the two young women noticed Katrina. Jenny lifted her hand in a wave to Katrina, 'Good evening Miss Katrina.' Jenny knew Katrina, because Katrina visited the Manor a number of times in the past and would often seek to speak to Grace the house matron, Jenny and Abbie's grandmother.

Abbie, who only heard of Katrina through Jenny and never met her in person, smiled kindly to the red-haired woman, 'Good evening Miss.'

'Oh,' the house matron remembered, 'Miss Katrina, you've never met my other granddaughter Abigail.' Abbie held out a hand for the other woman to take.

'Pleased to meet you Abigail,' Katrina shook Abbie's hand softly, 'And I see you are just as beautiful as your grandmother. You've got her eyes.' Abbie could only smile shyly at the compliment.

From what Abbie heard of Katrina from Jenny, she was a witch. Apparently, she was also a civilian nurse, but she was a witch, and that was why she was so often coming to the Manor. Abbie, unlike Jenny who lived with their grandparents on the Manor, didn't spend much time there. She would mostly come by to visit her family for a day and then leave again. What little she knew of what happened on the property was only through her sister, most of which she didn't believe anyway.

'Abbie,' her grandmother called, 'why don't you help Miss Katrina settle into one of the rooms before the dinner.' Abbie nodded and started walking out of the kitchen, assuming that Katrina would follow her. The truth was, Abbie didn't want to exchange words with Katrina. There was something about the red-haired woman that she couldn't put her finger on. She could tell just by looking that Katrina wasn't that much older than her, if she had to guess, she would say she was around the same age as...

Abbie shut that train of thought off completely. Today wouldn't be like all the other days, she wouldn't think of him. She would attend the dinner, help her grandmother where she could, and the next day, she would be on her way again. but she wouldn't think of him.

They reached one of the rooms Abbie knew were unoccupied. Her hand closed around the knob, 'You can use this one Miss Katrina.'

'Actually,' Katrina looked at Abbie, 'I was wondering if you could assist me.' Abbie didn't want to, she wanted to greet the guests with her grandmother, but Katrina was her grandmother's friend, she couldn't say no.

'Of course Miss,' she smiled, hating very much that she had to use her proper way of speaking. Her grandmother always told them that if they weren't speaking to family members, they had to speak properly. She showed Katrina into the room, allowing her to look around and take the room in while she waited. She waited and watched Katrina. Something about Katrina made her uncomfortable. Being in the presence of the red-haired polite woman made her feel uneasy for some reason; there was something about Katrina that made her think of Ichabod, the very person she didn't want to think of tonight.

'Could you please help me with this?' Katrina broke through the thoughts of Abbie. That's when Abbie realised why Katrina brought Ichabod to her mind. It was her accent. Although slightly different from his, Abbie thought they had to be from the same place back in England.

Katrina wanted help with unlacing her dress; Abbie's hands started working on the laces, 'Are you from England?'

'I am,' Katrina replied.

Before she could stop herself, Abbie blurted, 'I know someone from England.' That apparently surprised Katrina who turned back to face Abbie.

'You do?'

'I was on a British camp,' she explained, choosing only to tell a half-truth. The person she was thinking about wasn't Commander Lazlo or any of the other soldiers who she met when she was on the camp, she was talking about one person in particular. She gently pressed Katrina to turn back around.

'Ah!' Katrina recognised, 'Grace mentioned what you do. She misses you a lot when you are gone. And so does Lachlan.'

Mr. Fredericks was just as Commander Lazlo had been to her; she knew that he missed her when she was away. He ceaselessly begged her to remain with them in Sleepy Hollow but she always refused. She liked being free to choose what she could do with her life. Thankfully, she never suffered enslavement, because by the time she was old enough for labour, her grandmother was already in the employment of Lachlan Fredericks. Their parents thought it best that she and Jenny went to live with Grace and Joseph on the Manor. Under the protection of Lachlan, she never experienced the hardships that she knew some of her race faced. However, as soon as word got around two years ago that some slaves were being freed, she took the opportunity to leave the Manor and Sleepy Hollow to explore the world.

'I miss them too,' she confessed. She finished the last of the laces on the dress and stepped back, 'All done Miss.'

'You really don't have to keep calling me Miss, Abigail,' Katrina supplied, 'Katrina will do just fine. I keep telling Grace that she needs to do the same, but...' she shrugged as though she couldn't understand why the house matron refused her request. Abbie thought to another time when similar words had been spoken to her, the memory attacked her mind, leaving her a bit upset. She shouldn't be thinking about him.

'Did I upset you?' Katrina frowned, her eyes studying Abbie's face. Abbie shook her head, 'No Miss, you didn't.' Katrina looked doubtful, 'Because you wear the expression of one who remembered something painful...I know that look well...' she trailed off, getting lost in her own memories. Abbie didn't want to remain in the company of Katrina much longer, she tried for an escape, 'Is there anything else I could help you with Miss Katrina?' The question snapped Katrina from her thoughts.

'Oh,' she exclaimed in her soft voice, 'My make-up, I'm afraid I'm not good with that sort of thing.'

What could possibly be hard about applying powder on the face, Abbie wondered, 'Grandma knows more about that stuff,' she said, 'I don't wear make-up.'

'And why would you? You are perfect. Anyone would easily agree.' It was a straightforward compliment, which very much made Abbie uncomfortable. It sounded like an accusation coming from Katrina.

'You are gorgeous as well Miss Katrina,' was the only thing she could think to say.

Katrina laughed gently as she started stepping out of her dress, 'Well, I hope to be even more beautiful tonight.'

'Trying to catch someone's eye?' Abbie only asked it as joke, but she got a serious answer.

'No, not catch,' Katrina answered, 'I'm rather giving him a push in the direction he wants to be. I'm sure tonight will be different for us.'

Seeing the look on Katrina's face when she spoke of the man she was thinking about, Abbie concluded that she loved him, he was just too timid to do anything about it. She couldn't help wondering if he loved her the same way.

'He must be special,' she remarked to Katrina.

'If you knew him, you would know that he is,' Katrina told her, 'He is too dear, although being a man of war, something often troubles him.' Abbie did not know what to say to that, she herself was daily troubled with thoughts of Ichabod, how it could have been, had things been different. Those thoughts burdened her more than they didn't, they were always too painful for her. Knowing she would never know how it could've been cut deep into her.

'But, don't let me bore you with my life dear Abigail...'

'Should I get my grandmother to help you?' Abbie asked quickly, the feeling of getting away from Katrina increasing. Katrina studied her a moment before answering.

'Yes,' she nodded, 'please fetch Grace for me.' Gladly, Abbie left the room in a hurry, walking down the long corridor of the Manor to the kitchen. She didn't want to talk to Katrina again if she could help it, the woman was pleasant enough, yet Abbie couldn't place her finger on why she was so repelled from Katrina.

'Jenny,' she found her sister stuffing her mouth with spinach puffs, 'Where's grandma?'

Jenny shrugged, 'Greeting the guests, I don't know.'

'Stop eating those, they aren't for you,' Abbie told her sister when she left the kitchen. She kept her eyes open for her grandmother, there were a lot of people in the house, more than Abbie expected. She made her way to the dining room, which had three extra long tables laid out one next to the other. No one was in the dining room, she walked into the living room only to be spotted by Mr. Fredericks.

'Abbie,' he called from across the room, his face positively beaming. She couldn't stop feeling shy all of a sudden, she felt that all the eyes in the room were on her. She cast her eyes to the floor. His footsteps echoed softly in the suddenly silent room, letting her know that he was walking to her.

'You look marvellous,' he complimented, still a little way from her, 'simply the most beautiful woman here.' Abbie waited until he was close to her to raise her face to him alone, 'I'm looking for Grandma, Miss Katrina needs her.'

She didn't think she could take anymore compliments from anyone. Usually, she didn't mind receiving compliments, but tonight that she was dressed up, out of her true self, she didn't want to be complimented. By anyone.

Lachlan went on as though he didn't hear what Abbie said, 'You promise me a dance later on?' Abbie nodded only when he placed a hand on her arm.

'Very well, I would like to introduce to someone...come with me.' He led her without waiting for a response. Heavily, she felt the eyes of the men on her as she was led by Lachlan, it seemed that all of them had nothing better to do or talk about than stare at her. She hated the uncomfortable feeling that came from knowing she was being watched. Abbie spotted her grandmother near the door, talking to an overly tall woman whose hair looked like a wig.

'Mr. Fredericks,' she stopped moving, 'may I just go speak to Grandma? I'll be right back.'

The man nodded, 'Yes, but remember that this man is a professional in the field of Criminal Science...I know how much you would love to study that...don't miss this opportunity to talk to him.' He left her standing by herself. Abbie appreciated the interest he had in her life, how he wanted to help her grow in life. Her thoughts started disappearing when she saw someone enter the living room. Everything around her fell away and all she could see was Ichabod Crane.

Time didn't stand still, until he looked around and saw her. He was looking directly at her. In that moment, time stood still. Her feet, not consulting her, walked in the direction he was. Her mind was completely blank, she had no thoughts, no words were forming in her head, no anything, only her feet were thinking. She kept walking without being aware that she was and was surprised when she felt hands pulling her back.

Her grandmother called for her attention, 'Abigail.' She came back to life rather confused, she didn't know what just happened. Her grandmother had her hands on her arms and she didn't know why.

'Grandma?' she blinked in confusion.

'Where are you going?'

Abbie looked from her grandmother to the door, and then to Ichabod near the door. Between the door and Ichabod, there was only a footstep, and three footsteps kept Ichabod away from her grandmother. She quickly found an excuse. 'Outside,' she said, her eyes now only fixed on Ichabod. He, since he saw her, didn't look anywhere else, he only had eyes for her.

'Make it quick,' Grace released her granddaughter, 'I'll need you.'

'Yes Grandma,' she said absently, beginning to walk away from her grandmother then remembered something, 'Grandma,' she turned back, 'Miss Katrina needs your help.' Without waiting for an answer from her grandmother, Abbie dashed right passed Ichabod and through the door. It was dark outside, the only light coming from the two torches planted on either side of the door.

She made sure to close the door behind her so she could lean on it to process what was going on. It took her breathing returning to normal to realise that she had been breathing heavily. She clutched a hand to her heart area, mentally willing that her heart return to normal too. Nothing was clear exactly...she could be imagining that he was really there, inside the house, because he neither moved nor spoke when she walked past him. All she knew was that she didn't want to think about him, see him or talk to him. Even though she wanted all those things.

For three months she suffered because of him, she was plagued by thoughts of someone she hardly knew, someone she felt something powerful for. She had finally been willing to forget him and move on with her life, get married to Thomas and live her life the way a normal person should. Only to have him thrust her way so she could remember all the things she buried about him. It wasn't fair. Tears fell silently from her eyes. It wasn't fair. She didn't deserve such cruel treatment from the world. In less than a month she would be getting married. How could she get married now, having seen the man who frequented her dreams? In her dreams they would talk about all sorts of things, she would feel how it was like to be held by him...he especially liked to hold her around the waist in her dreams, and she especially liked to snuggle into him when they sat in silence watching the sunset at the bank of the lake.

More tears fell from her eyes, which she wiped away when she saw more people approaching the house, she couldn't be found on the doorstep crying. She smiled politely, gathering herself inwardly to enter the house. She had to go back inside, whether she wanted it or not, her grandmother was counting on her help. She entered after the last couple. Part of her expected him to still be at the same spot he was when she left, the other part expected that he would be going through the house searching for her. The last part was just wishful, he couldn't possibly looking for her when he saw her going outside. Disappointment washed all over her. He was nowhere to be seen. It didn't matter, she decided, what he did had nothing to do with her. it was only that she did care, she cared what he did.

'There you are,' her sister walked to meet her, 'Grandma wants you to help with serving the food. They're about to start.'

'Why don't you do it?' Abbie snapped. Or any of the other people who were loyal servants of Mr. Fredericks.

'Because, I'm going to church with Grandpa, he has something to do over there. Plus I already told Grandma I won't be here.'

Abbie knew her sister was probably meeting her friend slash something else Arthur Bernard at their secret place near the church. She didn't like to know the things they got up to when they were together.

She scanned the room and corridor for the house matron, 'Where is she?'

'With the witch,' Jenny rolled her eyes, 'See you sis.' Jenny went past her sister with a gleeful look on her face, clearly satisfied with herself for having dodged the fancy party. Abbie resented that Jenny could get away with almost anything with their grandparents. Abbie didn't have the same rights, yes she had freedom, but they mostly expected her to be mature and responsible, sometimes she just wanted to be uninhibited. Right now for example, she didn't want to attend the dinner anymore, she wanted to lock herself in one of the underground cellars until the party was over. She would give anything to not attend the dinner. And she would give more to spend a moment with him.

Very lightly, coming as a surprise, she felt a hand on her shoulder.

'Just go Jenny,' she said without turning around. It was just like her sister to rub it in her face that she couldn't do the same, because Mr. Fredericks and her grandparents expected better form her. It was one of the reasons she didn't visit them so often.

'Meet me outside right now.'

The words were whispered almost directly into her ear. She knew immediately whose hand was on her shoulder, who spoke those words. Three seconds too late, her breath caught in her lungs.

'Go away,' she whispered back, her eyes closed to enjoy the feeling that was his hand on her shoulder. In her dreams it was never that warm. She'd forgotten how real physical contact with him felt like.

'I shall wait for you outside,' he said. Then his hand was gone from her shoulder.

* * *

><p>She wouldn't do it, she told herself. She wouldn't go outside to meet him, even though she kept the exact amount of time that passed since he left. Her plan was to keep him waiting all night, but her heart disturbed her, reminding her that he was still outside waiting for her. Also pointing out that she wanted to see him as much as he wanted to see her. Her grandmother helped in Abbie sticking to her plan, but she could only carry platters to the dining room for so long. She still felt his hand on her shoulder. Going around the house, squeezing through the many guests, she still felt that his hand was on her shoulder. The particular area he had touched tingled in warmth so much that she had to look back several times to make sure that he wasn't behind her with his hand on her shoulder. At last, Mr. Fredericks invited everyone to the dining room to begin the dinner, Abbie took the opportunity to slip away unnoticed.<p>

She found him under a tree in the garden, his hands behind his back, standing in true soldier fashion. A soldier waiting for instructions from their superior. The little light coming from the stars helped her notice that.

'I'm here,' she said when she reached him.

'I knew you would come,' he replied. Apparently, he knew that she would eventually show up, which made her want to go back inside the house. He didn't know her, he didn't know what she did or how she thought, how could he possibly know that she would've come? Especially since she wanted to make him pay for not staying when she asked him to three months ago. If only he knew how much she cried that day.

'I can't see you,' she said, 'Let's go somewhere else.' Without torches in the garden, the only light that was available was the one from the clear sky, and it wasn't enough for her to see him clearly.

Because she spent all her adolescent years in the Manor, she knew where all the secret passages and hidden doors were in and around the house. She led him in silence through the garden and around the house to one of the cellars. The cellars have always been her favourite hiding place, they were perfect for those times she didn't want to be found. She led him into the first one, stopping only to get the key which was near the door for emergency reasons. Abbie unlocked the door; complete darkness, more than what was outside, met them from inside. She stepped in, walked carefully to the place where the lamp and matches were kept, then struck a match to turn the lamp on. Light spread through the room.

'Come in,' she invited. He closed the door behind him after he stepped inside. She briefly thought of locking the cellar door, but changed her mind when she remembered that they had enough drinks for the entire night. No one would be coming down to the cellar, they were safe to be in there.

She stood in the middle of the room, holding the lamp in her small hands, her eyes looking at him expectantly, he had to say something first.

'You are breathtaking,' he told her, 'Truly a vision.' He looked at her with awe, as though he had just discovered her for the first time.

'That's it?' She didn't have better words to his. For one thing, she wanted desperately to be angry with him for what he did to her, for what he put her through, even though he was looking at her like that. For another, he was looking at her like that, his eyes shiny with emotion.

'I am struggling with myself. I don't want there to be distance between us, but I fear that if I do move closer to you, I would not keep myself from kissing your lips. I know I cannot do so, so I choose to remain where I am, no matter how much I can't stand it.'

She froze, her mind abruptly stopped sending commands to the rest of her, she couldn't even open her mouth to speak. All she could do was stare at him, while her heart thudded away. His revelation was shocking.

'I have tried to forget you,' he continued, twisting his hands in front of him,' I tried convincing myself that I didn't want to be with you, that I felt nothing for you, but I failed miserably. When I thought of you, I felt like dying because I knew that I would never have a chance with you.'

'You didn't stay when I asked you to.' It was an accusation, because now that he was speaking about the things she went through herself, she needed it to be his fault that they suffered the same way together, he had to take all the blame.

He spoke as though he didn't hear what she said, 'I fear now that I have seen you again, I will never survive unless you assure me that you will annul the marriage engagement that you are bound to.'

Involuntarily, her hands let go of the lamp. It hit the ground with a loud clang, shattering the glass that kept the fire, into pieces. The light died out, and Abbie inhaled sharply at the sudden imbalance.

'Curses,' she said in annoyance, something she often heard her grandmother say when something went wrong. They were in complete darkness, her heart was reacting to his previous words, it wasn't right.

'The darkness cannot prevent me from saying what I mean to say to you. I suspect that I may be falling in love with you, do not ask me how I know this; I do not know. What I do know is that I find no joy in the world without you, I have no desire to laugh, nor do I see any beauty in life. The only thing that sustains me to continue living, is the knowledge that soon we will win this war to free your land, this glorious land that I will eternally treasure because of you.'

Abbie hated that he was speaking and she couldn't see his face. It occurred to her that he probably wouldn't hear her words if she interrupted him. He had the burning need to tell her what was going on inside him, nothing would stop him until he was done. He was speaking like a man with limited time. But Abbie wanted him to stop, she wanted to see the look he wore on his face as he spoke those words full of meaning.

'Stop talking,' she choked out, realising only then that a lump had developed in her throat. Blindly, she felt around on the ground for the broken glass. She had to cross over to him and make him stop talking. He didn't stop talking, he continued, 'All I wish is that you release me from the torture I'm in,' his voice started to break, sounding less stable, 'Speak to me the words that I wish to hear from you, and free me I beg. I need to know that you have the same sentiments for me, that I am not alone in feeling this way for you, or I will die by your hands tonight. I couldn't handle rejection from you. I have lived far too long agonizing over you.'

'Stop talking,' she cried more desperately this time. It wasn't fair. Nothing was fair. He couldn't place his heart in her hands like that, it wasn't a responsibility that she wanted. She was going to marry another man in less than a month, she couldn't hold Ichabod's heart in her hands as well. Abbie blinked back tears of frustration, he had no right to do this to her.

'It is better I suppose,' his words continued to flow, paying no attention to her request, 'to die at the hands of the one who holds your heart, than at the hands of the enemy. Whatever you decide, know that it was you I pledged my entire soul to.'

'Ichabod! Stop talking!'

It seemed they weren't talking to each other. He wasn't listening to her, he wasn't paying attention to what was coming from her mouth. She didn't want to hear anymore, not words said to her in the dark, especially words as true and sincere as his were. She blinked back more tears, swallowing hard to push the lump in her throat down to her stomach. He was killing her.

'Are you falling in love with me too Abbie?' he asked. She waited for the rest of his words. They didn't come. He was waiting for an answer from her.

Her answer to his question was at the tip of her tongue, it was ready to burst out, but she held herself. They were in total darkness, her eyes had begun adjusting to the dark, how could she tell him something so serious when he wouldn't see her eyes when she told him.

'His name is Thomas,' she decided to narrate to him the story of how she got engaged. 'I always thought he would make me happy. My father owed his father...and Thomas' father suggested that to settle the debt, Thomas and I had to marry. The man loves his son so much and would do anything for him...he knew that Thomas has always loved me. When my father asked me if I wanted to marry Thomas or not, I said yes, because I knew the kind of person he was, I also liked him. I always thought he would make me happy.' There had been a time when she believed that she would grow to love him once they were married, that her like for him would change into something more. That was before she met Ichabod Crane. He turned what she believed upside down.

'Why are you telling me this?' he asked with a strained voice, clearly he didn't want to know about the man she was to marry.

'I'm telling you because until you came to my tent that night, I did want to marry him.' Actually, it was before that when she started having second thoughts, it was just at that time, she thought he had died by the hands of American soldiers and so nothing in her plans changed.

'You don't wish to marry him anymore?'

'No,' she shook her head, forgetting that he couldn't see that little action. It wouldn't be fair to Thomas. She would never love him knowing that Ichabod's heart belonged to her.

'He's a good person, he loves me and all I can think about now is how it'll break his heart when I tell him that I don't want to marry him anymore.'

Quite suddenly, she felt herself scooped of her feet into a tight embrace. It took a moment to register that he'd crossed over the broken glass, felt blindly for her into his arms.

'What are you doing?'

'I'm embracing this moment,' he answered deeply, 'I never want to let it go.'

Was she the moment, or was the moment inside her, because she was the one being embraced, 'I can't breathe. Please let me go.' His hold loosened, but he didn't let go. That's when she felt she was suffocating, she pushed away from him, forcing him to set her on her feet. Being so close to him, just as in her dreams, was stealing her breath. She had no identity when he held her. Abbie stepped back from him, she could see his outline now, her eyes having grown used to the dark. She already missed his arms around her.

'I don't know about this,' she told him quietly, 'I feel like I'm being unfaithful to Thomas, but remind me again how it feels to be held by you.' The feeling of wanting to be in his arms wouldn't leave her, even though she knew that she shouldn't want to, being attached to another man. Ichabod didn't hesitate in taking her in his arms again, pressing her flush against him as though his life depended on it. He was compensating for the time he never got to feel her in his embrace. Holding nothing back, Abbie surrendered into his envelope of physical form of love. She's never in her life wanted to indulge in something for selfish reasons. It didn't matter that she promised her hand in marriage to Thomas, in this moment all she knew was that she was feeling something she'd never felt in her dreams.

'I never imagined it would feel this way,' he said softly, 'It feels unbelievable.' She nodded in response, desperately trying to breathe in the same air as him.

'Ichabod,' she called cautiously, 'I don't know if I'm falling in love you. I just know that I've been miserable thinking about you. And I'll treasure your embrace forever.'

His reply took her breath away once again, 'I would love to spend all my life with you Abbie.'


	11. Chapter 11

Her senses returned too soon. She remembered the dinner party and her grandmother, they had to return inside. Reluctantly, she pulled herself out of his embrace, telling him that he had to join the others. It was also a relief to her that they had to return inside, because his marriage proposal frightened her more than she allowed it to show. There has always been the story of Nicholas and Amber, that made her wary of people's cruelty.

'Have you eaten Abigail?' is the first question her grandmother asked her when she came back inside the house.

'No.' She didn't feel like she needed to eat after her time with Ichabod, time like that with him felt satisfying; she felt her ears burn at the thought.

'Then you will sit inside this kitchen,' her grandmother commanded softly, 'and eat something. You're already so small, I don't want you getting smaller.' Abbie did as her grandmother asked, but she knew that she wasn't free from being questioned later on, even if she did obey her grandmother. Once the dinner was over, she would be listening to her grandmother telling her all sorts of things, but for now, she would sit in front of a dish of food and force herself to eat while she reminisced about her encounter with Ichabod.

Eventually, having lost track of time in her thoughts, she heard the guests beginning to leave. She felt relieved, because at last she could roam around the house the way she pleased without fear of running into anyone doing secret things. Their era was very proper and respectful, but even among the proper lived the few who were willing to deny the norm.

She couldn't wait for the last of them to be gone. She also couldn't wait for Jenny to get back so they could share gossip, mostly she just wanted to hear what Jenny had been up to, but they could talk about other things too. Her younger sister had more experience when it came to love (or whatever it was), so Abbie wanted to find out a few things.

'Abigail,' he grandmother stepped into the kitchen, 'you haven't eaten.' Her plate of food was more than half uneaten.

'Grandma, I don't feel like eating. Can't I go look for Jenny or go to Grandpa at the church?'

'No.'

'Why?'

'Because, Miss Katrina is staying with us for a few days. And so is her companion. She feels comfortable with you, I want you helping her.'

'With what?'

'Settling into their rooms, whatever they may need.'

'But Grandma, doesn't Miss Katrina stay here a lot? She must feel like she's at home. Besides Grandma, I don't want to do it.' There's something about that woman that I'm not comfortable with, maybe it's the witch part.

Her grandmother fixed her a long stare, 'Fine,' she said, 'I will not force you. Do what you will. But can I at least ask you to stay for a few more days.'

'I've been here for a week.'

'Would it kill you to stay a little longer?' her grandmother walked to her and framed her small face in her hands, 'You'll be married soon darling, and then we'll never see you. Stay just a little before you go again.'

Married. She forgot that part. She wasn't getting married. It reminded her that she didn't make definite plans with Ichabod earlier. If she left tomorrow, and he left tonight, they wouldn't know where the other was, or how they could reach each other. Their confessions would serve useless when they couldn't see each other. Her heart started off in crazy panic. What if he already left, what would she do then?

'Grandma,' she pried the old woman's hands of her face, 'I have to look for someone. I'll be right back I promise.' She took off in a hurried manner, desperately hoping to catch him before he left. It was all she could think about, he couldn't leave without them making plans for their future.

'Abigail!'

She halted and collided into a figure, she looked up to find the face of Miss Katrina staring at her.

'I'm so sorry,' she started apologising, 'I wasn't looking where I was going.'

'In a hurry?'

'I have to find someone before he leaves.' And the more I stand here talking to you, the further he could be getting.

'The professor? I heard Lachlan talking to him about you, I think they are outside.'

'Thank you,' she nodded, moving aside so the woman could walk on. She didn't walk much further when she bumped into someone who was coming out of the dining room. She was just bumping into people apparently, but at least when she looked up, she saw it was him. Thankfully, he hadn't left, she sighed in relief.

'Off to somewhere?' he asked, smiling down at her.

'I was going to look for you actually,' she confessed, all of a sudden feeling like she standing on hot coals. She was heating up, terribly.

'No need,' he continued to smile, 'I'm not leaving.'

She looked behind her to see if someone was listening to them, no one was around. 'What do you mean?'

'The General insisted that I stay for at least three days. He didn't give me the option of saying no,' he explained, 'Though I can't say I'm sorry for it.'

'You're really staying?' All she could think about now was the feeling she had when he held her, she would do anything to feel that again.

'I am.'

'Okay,' she smiled shyly, 'I have to find someone else, otherwise my grandmother will ask me and I don't want to lie. Excuse me.' She tried to go past him, but he held her wrist and bend his head down to her ear.

'You promise to find me later on?' Nodding was the only thing she could do, because she was rejecting air coming in or going out of her.

'I will eagerly wait for you,' he released her, and she ran off quickly before he could stop her again. She wasn't sure what he wanted to see her for, but she didn't care, he was staying and that meant they could discuss their future. It was all she needed for now, that he was staying.

Long after she'd spoken to the professor, she sat outside in the dark, waiting for her sister to come home. Her sister was the one person she could talk to freely before she could talk to their grandmother. Jenny always helped her clear her head before she talked to her grandmother. But now, more importantly, she needed to ask Jenny a few things about love or whatever it was that she was in. Her sister had more knowledge and experience when it came to such things. She and Arthur engaged in so many things that sometimes, Abbie felt like Jenny was making it all up. In any case, Abbie needed to talk to Jenny before she went to find Ichabod later on. She just needed to speak to Jenny.

It was her grandfather who pulled her into the house with him. Abbie wasn't surprised that Jenny wasn't with him, her sister probably didn't even make it to the church.

'Where's Jenny Grandpa?'

'I haven't seen her,' he grandfather answered, 'Did she say she was coming to the church?' They all knew she used that line often enough, it was only because they knew the kind of person Arthur was that they never stopped her.

'It's getting late,' Abbie said absently. Whatever her sister did or didn't do, or however late she got home, she was never scolded for it. Her grandparents and Mr. Fredericks allowed her to get away with everything, they said it was just her nature, being one who went against every rule there was. It didn't matter anyway, Abbie thought, Jenny knew how to look after herself, and Arthur was a good person from what she knew.

'Did you enjoy the party?'

'I wasn't really at the party Grandpa, but I did have a good time. I'm happy.'

'As you always should be,' was his final remark. Her grandfather wasn't a man of many words, unless it came to talking about God or his wife Grace; he usually only said what he needed to say.

They found her grandmother in the kitchen, holding a cup between her hands. She smiled when she saw them. Abbie could tell that she was tired. She wasn't that advanced in age, and she wasn't physically burdened, but she had so many responsibilities. Mr. Fredericks didn't trust anyone as much as he trusted the house matron, which meant she had many things to do during the day. The rest of the servants were gone, the kitchen was cleaned and everyone had retired to bed.

'Shall we go home?' Joseph Dixon asked his wife from the door. The only reason he came inside was so that he could get his wife. Abbie often found it sweet that her grandparents did little things like that for each other, when she married one day, she wanted the kind of relationship her grandparents had. Grace nodded and stood up. Her grandparents didn't live inside the Manor. When Grace started working for Mr. Fredericks, he insisted that she and her husband stay in the Manor, but Joseph insisted that they needed privacy. Mr. Fredericks had an average sized cottage built for them at the back of the Manor, where there wasn't any tree or garden that needed to be looked after, that way, Grace wouldn't be looking after two houses and gardens too. When Abbie was around, she stayed in the cottage with them, but sometimes, she stayed with Jenny in the Manor. Her sister liked living in the Manor, mostly because she got to spy on the people that often came there. Jenny knew a lot of secrets from the house.

'I'm waiting for Jenny, I have to ask her something,' she quickly said. The truth was, she remembered that she had to meet Ichabod later on, and if she went to the cottage with her grandparents, she wouldn't be able to return and find him. She wanted to talk to Jenny too, but the Ichabod thing was more important. And speaking of Ichabod, she didn't know which floor he was staying on, she had to ask her grandmother.

'All right darling,' her grandfather said as he held out a hand for his wife, 'We'll see you in the morning.'

'Grandma?'

'Yes'

'How many people are here?'

'Only Miss Katrina and her companion,' her grandmother answered. It couldn't be, she thought, he said he wasn't leaving, but now her grandmother was telling her that only Miss Katrina and her companion were staying in the Manor. He didn't lie to her, but her grandmother wasn't lying either, something was wrong.

'Are you sure Grandma? Isn't there anyone else?'

'No,' she shook her head, 'I personally took both of them to their rooms. All the other rooms are unoccupied.'

She couldn't be hearing right, or maybe she made up their last encounter in her head; she didn't really meet him, and he didn't ask her to look for him later.

'Okay,' she said sadly, 'I'll just wait for Jenny. Goodnight.'

They left her in the kitchen with her thoughts. She didn't understand what was going on, why he lied. It was only Miss Katrina and her companion...

Miss Katrina's companion, she realised with a start, he was probably Miss Katrina's companion. But if he was, that meant that he was the man Miss Katrina had spoken about earlier, the man she called special. The very same person that she thought would do something different at the party that would change the direction of their relationship. If all that was true, then he lied to her, he told her lies when he was involved with another woman.

Partly angry and mostly hoping that she was mistaken, she took off from the kitchen is a hurry. She was going to find him this night and he was going to explain everything to her, she couldn't allow that he treated her like a fool. Of course it was too good to be true, she couldn't have her life fall into place after so many months of agonising pain, she should've known from the start that it was just as illusion. She hurried along the hallways of the house until she reached the very last room on the last floor, she would start from top to the bottom. Luckily, Mr. Fredericks slept on the lowest floor, and she was pretty sure she knew where Katrina was sleeping; she would be careful to avoid barging into their rooms. As she went along the four rooms on the top floor, she did so with caution, walking fast, but making sure she wasn't dragging her feet so anyone could hear her. He wasn't on the top floor. She found him in the third room on the middle floor, which just happened to be on the same side as Miss Katrina's room. She didn't particularly care that Miss Katrina was only a door away when she swung the door to his room open. She expected that he would be tucked into bed, fast asleep from the party. He wasn't, he stood by the window, fully dressed in the clothes from the party, and looking out as though he was waiting to see something. He turned around when the door opened.

'You came,' he said quietly. Carefully, she closed the door behind her and turned the key in the lock. She felt like she was sneaking around with a married man.

'I need to talk to you,' she said, her back leaning against the door. She refused to go any further into the room, if he wanted to be close to her, he had to close the distance. The room was dimly lit, the light from the lamp turned down on purpose. She wondered if he had planned on waiting for her all night.

'Come in,' he beckoned with his hand, starting to move away from the window.

It was hard, because she wanted to, despite her being upset, she did want to be closer to him. 'No,' she told him. He shrugged and walked to her, took her by both her arms and pulled her backwards with him further into the room, only stopping when they reached his bed.

He sat on the bed before he requested her to join him, 'Sit down please.' She chose not to, she didn't want to be distracted from her mission. If she sat next to him, he could easily pull her close to him and she would forget that she needed to know the truth about Miss Katrina.

'Is there something between you and Miss Katrina?' Again, she felt like she was part of a story where she was the scarlet woman, who had no right to ask anything. Chances were, he probably did have something with her; he could've met the other woman before he met her.

His face was completely straight when he said, 'No.'

She believed him, her mind returning to her, but she still had to ask, 'Really?'

He told her of what happened since he left the British camp, all that happened with him, with his heart. Somewhere between his narrating of his life after he defected, she sat next to him on the bed. She believed every word that came from his mouth. When he told her about Miss Katrina's attempts at wooing him, she understood why the red-haired woman had said that he often seemed troubled by something, only now she knew that it wasn't because he was a war man, it was because of her. She felt an oddly satisfying feeling at the discovery. Knowing that she held his heart even in the company of a woman like Miss Katrina made her feel a pride she never felt before.

'You really never forgot me did you?' she asked.

'I tried,' he confessed, 'So many times I tried. I simply could not.'

'I'm happy that you didn't,' intentionally, she leaned her side on his shoulder. His arm went around her at once, as though he had been waiting for her to give him permission to do so.

His hand squeezed around her arm gently, 'As am I.' They sat in silence, enjoying the serenity that they were feeling for being in each other's company. She could stay with him like that forever, not saying a word, and she would be perfectly happy.

'Abbie?' he broke their silence after some time. 'Hmm?'

'I want to know everything about you.'

She told him everything he wanted to know. They spoke about each other to each other until the oil in the lamp burned out and Abbie had to pull out a spare lamp from the little cabinet in the room. They spoke and she forgot about her sister. They discussed their childhoods and their plans. She couldn't hear his voice enough, and he wouldn't let her out of his grasp for more than a moment.

'I'll have to go to bed at some point,' she said when she was reaching down to remove her shoes and he wouldn't let go of one of her arms. It was almost as if he didn't trust her to be out of his grasp, he wanted to keep her to him at all times.

'Stay here,' he asked. She remembered that stormy night in her tent, and then she didn't have the strength to say no to him. She could easily refuse him as he refused to stay the next morning, but she couldn't refuse herself the chance of being with him longer.

'I'm not supposed to,' she said half-heartedly, knowing full well that she would staying anyway. She'd have to sneak out in the morning, but she was sure it would be worth it.

'Stay with me,' he repeated, this time letting go of her completely. If she was going to stay, she had to make that choice completely on her own.

She gave in, 'Okay.'


	12. Chapter 12

It was the footsteps sounding in the corridor that roused her from her sleep. She was never a heavy sleeper, but there were times when she slept past her waking hour, like today. Today, she blamed it on the fact that she was half tucked into a man. It was such a pleasant thing to her that she didn't want to move. Jenny once told her that there was something about waking up in the arms of someone that was magical, she never understood that until today. It was as if there was a certain power in waking up to the feeling of arms around her that she couldn't understand. She felt safe and wanted, she felt brave enough to tell her family that she wouldn't be marrying Thomas anymore; waking up in Ichabod's arms made her feel like everything would be okay from then on.

She gathered herself up from him, doing her best not to wake him. He shifted a little, but his eyes didn't open. She was just about to climb off the bed when a knock came from the door.

'Ichabod? Ichabod are you awake?'

Abbie froze, that was Miss Katrina's voice. She didn't know what to do; she couldn't reply, she definitely couldn't go open up for her...she began panicking. Although they'd only spend the night talking to one another, she doubted anyone would believe it, much less the woman who had her heart set on Ichabod. Still panicking, she roughly nudged him to wake up. He had to answer the woman at the door, before she got suspicious and things got out of hand.

'Ichabod,' she whispered urgently into his ear, continuing to shake him, 'Ichabod please wake up.' It took a little more shaking for him to begin rousing.

'What is the matter?' he tried lifting his head, only to have Abbie push it back down.

'Miss Katrina is outside your door...she's knocking, you need to answer her,' Abbie whispered in the same urgent tone as before. She couldn't calm down, not when she was in such a difficult position. There had never been a time in her life when she felt as afraid as she did now.

'Katrina?' he blinked to rid the sleep from his eyes.

'Just answer her...tell her anything.' Her heart was threatening to beat out of her chest for all the anxiety she felt.

'Ichabod?' Miss Katrina's voice came again. Abbie guessed she'd waited for a response long enough, that's why she was calling his name a second time. Abbie jabbed Ichabod with her index finger, he had to get up or at least answer Miss Katrina.

'Yes?' he lifted his head, carefully rising his body from the bed. Abbie made to make way for him, but he took hold of her wrists to keep her in place on her knees on the bed with him.

'Keep still,' he told her quietly, 'stay here. I will deal with Katrina.' She nodded and he let go of her. He got up and headed to the door. At least, she'd locked the door behind her the previous night, anything could've happened had Miss Katrina decided to walk in. Another thing Abbie was glad for, was that he hadn't changed into his sleeping things, not that he had any. At least when he opened the door, he wouldn't be half undressed to arouse suspicion in Miss Katrina. She watched him opening the door slowly (while she chewed on her heart in her mouth), as he very quickly went through the small opening he made with the door. He pulled the door shut behind him. Only then, was she able to relax a little. As quietly as she could, she climbed off the bed, walked to the door and pressed her ear to the door. She wanted to hear what they were talking about, not necessarily that she thought they would be talking about their relationship, she only wanted to hear if Miss Katrina was asking Ichabod about her. It wouldn't be unlikely that her grandmother had gone into Jenny's room and discovered that she wasn't in there. And if that happened, it wouldn't be unlikely either that her grandmother went around the house asking everyone if they'd seen her. She couldn't make out much of what was being said, so she gave up listening. Simultaneously, the door opened and she had to jump back to avoid being hit. He slipped inside.

'Is she gone?' she mouthed, she couldn't risk talking, Miss Katrina could still be nearby enough to hear her voice. He nodded, a small smile on his face. If she wasn't more afraid than she was glad to have Miss Katrina gone, she would've noticed that his smile had nothing to do with her question, but everything to do with their current situation. He was enjoying their predicament.

'Am I in trouble?' she whispered since Miss Katrina was apparently gone.

'No,' he replied. He wouldn't know anyway, she realised.

'I have to go. If grandma finds me here...I have to go.' She watched his face for a reaction, most of her wanted him to insist that she stay with him. She wouldn't be able to obviously, but him asking would be enough to get her through the day.

'She wants us to go for a walk,' he said, 'I imagine she wants us to talk...but I will tell her today.' Abbie's eyes shot out in fear. He couldn't tell Miss Katrina, not yet.

'Please don't,' she begged, finding his hand to hold, 'I need to tell my family first...please just don't tell her yet.' If she didn't tell her grandparents of her decision, they would think she'd been involved in a scandalous affair while she was still engaged to Thomas, not that she could say she wasn't involved in an affair. If they found out from someone else, it would most probably be horribly distorted.

'I don't want to hide you Abbie,' he cupped her small face with one of his hands.

'Please,' was all she could say in between closing her eyes to relish in the feel of his hand on her face and feeling his other hand in her own. He relented, 'All right, but I will tell her, you only have to say the word,' he promised.

'I have to go. Please let go of me.' Her words caused the exact opposite of what she asked to happen, Ichabod freed his hand from hers and brought it to the other side of her face. She couldn't read the look in his eyes, something that frightened her a bit.

'I want to kiss your lips.'

She wasn't sure if he was telling her or if he was asking to kiss her; she wasn't sure how to react to that either. The only people that kissed her ever in her life were her parents and grandparents, she knew nothing of kisses from men. Abbie swallowed and blinked at the same time, she wasn't ready for what he was asking. Embraces were a different thing entirely...kissing was something she wasn't prepared for. Besides, it would be the worst sort of betrayal to Thomas there was, she was still bound to him until she broke it off with him.

'I have to go,' she said again, her hands were beginning to sweat.

'I will not do it,' he told her, 'Not until you are truly free from your engagement.' There was a painful sincerity in his words that felt like she was being sliced with an extremely cold knife. To mask whatever she was feeling (she didn't know what she was feeling) she took his hands off her face, telling him, 'I'll see you later.'

* * *

><p>She didn't see him again for the rest of the day, there wasn't time to. She managed to successfully sneak out of his room, made it to Jenny's room without being noticed and changed into a normal dress that wasn't the one she'd been wearing the previous night. Fortunately for her, Jenny found her just as she was leaving the room. Her sister pushed her back into the room.<p>

'You have some explaining to do. Where were you?' her sister pointed a finger at her. Abbie knew better than to take her sister seriously, she wasn't really interested in knowing the answer.

'Was Grandma here?' she asked.

'Duh! It's been morning for three hours, of course she'd come in here to wake us up...and imagine the surprise on Granny's face when she discovered you weren't here.'

Abbie knew her sister would never willingly get her into trouble, because she generally didn't care what Abbie did as long as she wasn't dead; it was just their sister thing to look out for each other. Sometimes, when Abbie was there at the Manor and Jenny didn't sleep at home, Abbie would invent something to keep her sister from getting into trouble. Her grandparents were lenient with everything Jenny did, but Abbie knew not sleeping at home was something almost unforgivable.

'What did you tell her?'

Jenny shrugged, 'That you'd gone to the river.'

'Thanks,' she smiled thankfully. That was an extremely good cover, she wouldn't have to explain much to her grandmother.

'Yeah, just fix your hair, it looks too proper,' her sister suggested.

'Hey, I need to talk to you...got time?'

'I'm cleaning the church today,' Jenny said, 'you can come with me. I mean, Grandma said you're staying...you're staying right?'

Jenny always had a brave look and behaviour about her, she did it so well that people who didn't know her thought that she was unaffected by anything. Abbie knew better, behind the brave exterior, her sister was extremely sensitive and didn't easily trust. Also, she didn't like that Abbie was away so much, even if she never said it.

'I'm staying,' Abbie assured her. For now, for as long as Ichabod was staying at the Manor, she would be staying too.

'Then put on tougher shoes Abigail darling,' Jenny imitated the voice of their grandmother, 'we need to get going.'

After fixing herself the way Jenny suggested, she hurriedly went to make an appearance to her grandmother in the garden. As she was looking for her grandmother, she spied Ichabod and Miss Katrina walking out through the entrance. Oddly, she had to remind herself that there was nothing between them, because she suddenly felt jealous seeing them side by side. Ichabod looked back and saw her, then unabashedly took time to smile at her and lift his hand in a wave, she felt her face grow hot at the tiny gesture. She still didn't know why he could affect her so much without doing much. She waved back, but turned away before she gave herself away.

Her grandmother didn't question her story of the river, neither did she stop Abbie from going with Jenny to clean the church. The sisters walked at a slow pace to the church and Abbie took the opportunity to talk to her sister.

'So...' she started.

'Just spit it out Abbie,' Jenny shoved her a little, knowing that her sister had something on her mind.

'It's not easy okay,' Abbie confessed. It was true, as naturally as she thought it would come to talk to her sister about love and relationships, it wasn't. She felt more than reluctant, at the same time wanting to talk about her life as it was currently, the mixed feelings confused her. Yes, she was previously going to get married, and she had no trouble talking about Thomas to Jenny, but this was different. She felt like she would exposing herself in the most intimate of ways to her sister; it was definitely a new feeling for her.

'Start somewhere. Like where you slept last night for example.' Just thinking about it made Abbie's stomach turn pleasantly; she could almost still feel his arm pulling her into him as they started falling asleep. Maybe that was how heaven was like.

'In heaven,' she said half consciously. Jenny burst out laughing, stopping in her tracks to enjoy the moment. It annoyed Abbie; she hit her sister's shoulder, 'Jenny!'

'I'm sorry,' Jenny pulled her sister into a side hug between her laughing, 'it just sounded so funny when you said that. I'm sorry.'

Abbie scowled, 'It's not funny, so stop laughing.'

'Fine,' the younger of the two sobered up, 'I'll stop.'

They continued to walk in silence until Abbie couldn't hold it in anymore, 'I slept with a man.'

Quite suddenly, her sister stopped walking, 'What?' The expression on Jenny's face made Abbie realise that she said the truth in the wrong way.

'No,' her eyes grew bigger, 'No. No, Jenny. I didn't...we didn't...we just talked and slept. He held me when we slept.'

'Seriously, never give me a heart attack like that again,' Jenny warned. Abbie found it strange that her younger sister, who had already been intimate with Arthur, was shocked at the thought of her being with a man. She was twenty-five after all, five years older than her grandmother was when she got married.

'Would it be so bad if I was with a man?' Abbie just asked it to get an answer from Jenny, she wasn't planning on being that way with a man yet. Jenny's account of her first time had been quite terrible for her, although Jenny told her that it got better with experience, Abbie still couldn't get out of her mind the way her sister had described her first time with Arthur.

'No,' her sister answered, 'but you're the responsible one Abbie. Why do you think Grandma and Lachlan are always on your case? People are generally strict with the ones they most trust because they want the best from them. If you give yourself to a man just because he's a man and he wants you, you'll regret it Abbie. I know you would, because you're much more responsible than that. Plus, I don't want you getting hurt...I know I make it sound fun and light when I talk about Arthur and I, but the truth is, it's pretty serious...we don't just get together because we can. Okay sometimes we do, but you know what I mean.' Abbie listened carefully, her sister rarely spoke seriously about anything, and with such an authority as though she were the older of the two giving advice.

'I really like him,' Abbie told her sister. Now they were just standing in the path, no longer walking. Her sister studied her, 'It's not Thomas is it?' Abbie shook her head.

Once she started talking, she found that it wasn't so hard to talk about the situation she found herself in. In fact, she realised that she loved talking about the way she felt about Ichabod. She told her sister everything there was to tell, from their meeting, to their time apart. They started walking again, but Abbie wouldn't stop talking about Ichabod.

'Is it like that with you and Arthur?' she asked immediately after she'd spoken about the previous night.

'Not really,' Jenny said, 'I mean, I like being with Arthur and we talk a lot, but it's not like what you're describing. It's just different I guess.' That confused Abbie, did it make her abnormal or was she just illusionary?

'Different bad?'

Jenny shook her head and took her sister's hand, 'It's good I think. Too bad for Thomas though.'

'I don't know how to tell everyone. I feel like they'll be disappointed.' She never wanted to disappoint her grandparents or her parents for that matter. Telling them of her decision to break off the engagement probably wouldn't be taken well by them.

Jenny empathised with her sister, 'Will you tell them about Ichabod?'

She had to, as much as she feared to tell her grandparents about Ichabod, she couldn't keep seeing him in secret, she liked being with him; she didn't want to hide that for the rest of her life.

'I have to,' she said, remembering that he wanted to tell Miss Katrina, but she asked him not to. If she didn't confess the truth to her family, he wouldn't be able to tell Miss Katrina about them either. Abbie presented that piece of information to Jenny.

'The witch is after him?'

'Stop calling her that,' Abbie insisted.

'She is a witch, everyone knows that...and you stop calling her Miss like she's seventy years older than you.'

Abbie never asked why Jenny disliked Miss Katrina so much, she was sure that something had to have happened to make her sister dislike the woman.

'It's just respect,' Abbie said, 'I'm worried that she won't like it. There's something about her that makes me uncomfortable.'

'Don't worry,' Jenny said, 'it'll be okay. Our parents didn't even want you to marry that guy anyway. They only agreed because you agreed. And forget about Katrina.'

Abbie felt better talking to her sister. She knew it would place her thoughts together, she didn't know it would make her feel bolder.

'Thanks Jenny,' she pulled her sister to her in a small hug, they continued walking to the church.

* * *

><p>They walked far enough from the Manor. Ichabod, while he listened to her talking, thought it made sense now why the General had insisted that he remain at the Manor for a few more days. He thought nothing of it the previous night, he was too distracted anyway, consumed only with thoughts of his future with Abbie. He couldn't even enjoy the delicious meal that was set out before him, he had been much too happy to notice the beauty in anything that wasn't Abbie. All through dinner, he'd recalled how her scent wafted into his lungs in his embrace, how he felt her heart beating against him as he held her close. And now on his walk with Katrina, he had trouble keeping his mind away from imagining waking up the way he had in the morning; with Abbie by his side.<p>

'Are you listening to me Ichabod?' The question brought him from his dreams.

'Forgive me Katrina,' he apologised, 'my mind is wandering away.' He wished he hadn't agreed to come on the walk with her. Now that he saw the walk for what it truly was, he didn't want to entertain it any longer. He couldn't pretend to be happy by Katrina's side when his heart belonged to Abbie.

Katrina stood in front of him to prevent him from taking one more step, 'And what thoughts are stealing you away from my company?' She spoke in her delicate voice, which made him feel all the worse for having come.

'Perhaps we should return to the Manor,' he said, willing himself not to let it slip that he was interested in another woman. Abbie had specifically asked him not to tell Katrina about them until she was ready. He would wait for her sanction on the matter, but he wasn't sure he would be able to keep it from Katrina if she started to drop hints about how she desired a future with him. He prayed Katrina wouldn't choose to be forward during their walk.

'Don't be silly Ichabod, we have ample time,' she tried. He saw the hopeful look in her eyes and immediately knew she was planning to take advantage of their time alone. He wouldn't allow her the chance.

'I have much on my mind,' he told her, it was half a lie, designed to steer her in the direction he wanted her to be in; away from trying to talk of her feelings for him.

Katrina placed her hand on his chest, 'As you always do. Why don't you ever confide in me Ichabod? Do you not trust me?'

'It isn't that Katrina,' he wanted more than anything to peel her hand off him, but he held himself, he didn't want to offend her.

'Then what is it? Surely by now you can tell that I more than care for you.' And there it was, her first hint. He was sure more were to follow. It was clearer than ever now that the General and Katrina had plotted the ambush together. It made him furious that they would plan for his life like that, they had no right.

'Katrina please,' was all he said as he looked away. The woman used her free hand to turn his face back to her.

'Ichabod,' she said quietly, 'I have waited patiently, but I doubt I can wait any longer.'

More than the plotted ambush infuriated him, her words, along with her hands on him, irritated him, he pried both her hands off him, 'Katrina, hear me when I say this, now is not the time for that.' There never would be a time for her and him to be together.

'On the contrary, it is the perfect time. What could be holding us back?' She spoke of an 'us' as though they were an established thing, they weren't, they never would be. There was hurt on her countenance despite her words, only, he found that he didn't care all that much.

'Forgive the harshness of my next words,' he apologised in advance, taking a step back from her, 'I do not share the same sentiments Katrina. I didn't want to tell you this way, but you gave me no choice.' Her face changed drastically, 'That is not true.' She was in denial, he felt sad on her behalf.

'I'm sorry Katrina, that is the truth.'

'No,' she insisted firmly, 'you are only saying that because something troubles you and you don't wish to share it with me.'

He studied her face for a trace of anything that wasn't denial, he found nothing. Sighing was the next best thing he could do to shouting out in frustration. How could it be that an intelligent and beautiful woman such as Katrina could be so blind to the reality in front of her?

'Katrina,' he tried more gently, 'my heart belongs to another.' He omitted the part where it always belonged to someone else, because that part was incriminating. During the time he thought he would never see Abbie again, he used to look for Katrina to fill the void he'd felt. He was never proud of himself in those moments, but to be fair, what he sought from her, he never did get in any case. As much as he'd tried to see Katrina as the woman he could spend his life with, he could never manage it, his thoughts always drifted back to Abbie and her beautiful face.

It was as though Katrina didn't hear him, no reaction came from her, not even a word. He wasn't about to repeat his words, even if she didn't hear him.

'Forgive me if I misled you. It was never my intention.' There had been a time when he attempted as best as he could to grow feelings for her; now as he thought of it, that time could've been a contributor to her thinking he held the same feelings for her as she did for him..

'I wish to return to the Manor now,' Katrina said quietly. She was choosing to leave their conversation in the air, something he didn't appreciate, he couldn't allow her to continue living in the illusion that he shared her feelings any longer.

'Katrina please, understand me-' he was almost begging her.

'No,' she held up a hand, 'I understand perfectly. You need more time. We shall return to the Manor and discuss this when you have slept off whatever is bothering you.'

'That's not-'

'Ichabod,' she warned calmly, 'I do not wish to discuss this further. Let us return to the Manor now.' She walked away from him before he could say anymore. It wasn't ideal how things turned out, Katrina was upset and in denial, and he felt terrible for her, but at least he told her the truth. Sooner or later, she would have to come to terms with the fact that his heart never belonged to her. He kept a healthy distance between them on their walk back to the Manor; with Katrina taking big strides in front of him, he couldn't keep up in any case. It was clear that she didn't want to converse with him on the way to the Manor.

He was relieved when they reached the Manor. Katrina disappeared into the house immediately, he decided to wait around in the garden, it wouldn't be wise to follow her inside. Besides, he wanted to catch sight of Abbie again.

He waited and waited for Abbie to show up, he didn't see her. Not anywhere in the garden. What did she do in her free time, where did she go when she had nothing to do? All sorts of questions he hadn't thought to ask her last night floated in his head. He wanted to see her, of course he considered that she could be inside the house, but he really didn't want to bump into Katrina. He kept waiting outside, with her last promise still fresh in his mind, 'I'll see you later.' He was called in for late lunch by one of the servants, he politely declined and retired to his room for a little slumber . His dreams consisted of a mixture of things, his family back at home, welcoming him with his bride Abbie, and then he was on the battlefield, an unknown warrior slashed his chest open; he died and found himself somewhere with a weeping Katrina. When he woke up, he tried to make sense of the dream he had, if it was trying to tell him something. The dream bothered him, especially since it involved Abbie, at least her part was good, but the rest of the dream made him nervous. He couldn't stop thinking that the next time he went out for battle, he wouldn't come back alive. They would return him as a corpse, ready for burial. Then, more than before, he wanted to see the face of Abbie, to gaze into her big eyes for the reassurance that everything would be okay, that they would have a chance of being happy together.

Later in the evening, he was called to supper, which he didn't go to. The dream was still weighing on his mind, and he still held hope that Abbie would come to him. She never did. He fell asleep without seeing her.

* * *

><p>It was bad enough that she got back late from cleaning the church last night, now she had to once again return to the church for a church service. Since yesterday morning, she hadn't spoken to Ichabod. When she returned with Jenny and their grandfather from the church, she'd been too exhausted to look for him. She forgot that she was hungry, she ignored that she needed to take a bath, the only thing she cared for was a bed to lay her tired body on. She fell asleep at once, and the next thing she knew, her grandmother was shaking her to wake up. Normally, Abbie didn't mind how long church services were, she enjoyed them actually, she liked the way her grandfather spoke about God and His power, it was a whole different environment in the church from the outside world. Today particularly, she felt restless in the church. Ichabod only had this and the next day before he returned to his camp, to his duty, she didn't want to spend more time away from him than she spent with him. The service was longer than she ever knew a service to be, her grandfather wouldn't finish whatever he was saying. When he did dismiss everyone, Abbie was the first to jump out of seat for the door. She walked as if her feet were on fire, she had to get back to the Manor quickly.<p>

Excitement rushed through her as she thought that soon she would be seeing Ichabod. They would no doubt have to meet in secret in her favourite cellar, but it didn't matter, she only wanted even a small moment with him. Her excitement reached its peak the minute she opened the Manor doors, and there in the welcoming area, he sat reading a book. Her heart almost flew from her body. He looked so handsome sitting there, deeply concentrating on his book, oblivious to anything around him. She took a moment to just admire the way he looked in that moment, he looked serenely handsome.

Abbie cleared her throat to get his attention. He placed a finger between the book, on the page he'd been reading to mark it, and then turned in her direction. Relief. That was his first reaction, or so it looked to her. His second reaction, she guessed to be admiration, for he was looking at her tenderly, as if she were an awesome creature. Nothing could stop her heart fluttering in response to his look. He stood up to meet her as she walked to him.

'Abbie,' he finally said, her name sounding like a poem form his mouth. She liked how he said her name.

'Hi,' she said shyly. The man made her so very shy at times, his stares made her feel shy in his presence.

'I'm so very glad to see you.'

'Me too.'

'Would you take a walk with me?'

She thought about it briefly. A walk with him; they would probably hold hands as they walked, she would like that.

'You're reading,' she said, scratching her nose.

'I was waiting for you,' he set the book on the chair she found him sitting in, 'Take a walk with me.'

'I need to change my clothes first, but okay.' Why was it that she could never say no to him, everything he asked, she found herself saying okay to.

'I'll wait in the garden,' he said.

'No, wait here...I'll be right back.'

It was funny how no one ever seemed to be around when she met Ichabod, the few servants in the house were never anywhere near them, and Mr. Fredericks (which was no surprise) was never anywhere to be seen unless he needed something. He was always in his study, doing only he knew what he did in there. Of course no one would think anything if they were found talking, yet she couldn't help it be thankful that no one interrupted them. She rushed to change, not taking time to fold her dress away. Instead, she threw it on the pile that was all Jenny's clothing and rushed out in a more comfortable dress with thin material that was perfect for the weather at the river. Where he thought they would be going for a walk, she was going to take him to the river; they'd have a lot more privacy there.

'I want to show you something.'

Her feet were dipped in the water, her dress pulled up to her knees. Ichabod sat next to her, he chose not to touch the water at all.

'As long as it doesn't involve me getting into the water.' Abbie laughed lightly, still unable to fully accept that he had a slight fear of flowing water.

'No water,' she crossed her fingers before his face, 'I promise.'

'Then I do not object,' he said with a smile. He thought he had to surely be dreaming, it wasn't possible that after all those months of suffering, he was really here, enjoying a warm afternoon away in her company. She was so beautiful, he would never grow tired of looking at her face, or staring into the big eyes that spoke so much. He wasn't deserving of her. Without meaning to, he started thinking of the dream he had the previous afternoon. He desired to be welcomed back by his family, much more with Abbie by his side. But his dream had another part, a part that involved him dying.

'What are you thinking about?' she asked, seeing the faraway look on his face.

'I dreamt I took you to England, and they welcomed us with open arms.'

'You miss them don't you?' she wasn't so much asking as she was observing.

'My father vowed never to speak to me again. I carry the rejection with me at all times. I wish things were different.'

She felt for him, hers was a different situation, but she also wished she could see her parents often. Being away from the people she loved was hard. Her grandparents were everything to her, yet she wished she could be with her parents more.

'I miss my parents as well. And Jenny hates it when I have to leave...it's just hard being away from the people you love. I can't imagine how it would feel if my family rejected me.' They took a moment to digest what she said.

In a lazy tone, he said, 'I never want to part from you.' It sounded like he had created a situation in his mind that made him have to be away from her.

'You are still a soldier, until we get what you're fighting for, we'll have to be apart.' That was one reality she hadn't thought about before now. No one knew how long the war would last, all she hoped was that it would end soon.

'I also dreamt I died,' he said suddenly, as though he couldn't stop the words coming out from his mouth. He looked out to the other side of the river. Her eyes followed his gaze, deciding to let him have the next words. However long it took, she wouldn't be the one to speak after his uttered fear. For the longest time, they sat in silence, looking out at the seemingly distant land in front of them. She wouldn't bring up his fear of dying on the battlefield, he had to let her know if he wanted to continue that conversation or not.

Apparently, judging from his next words, he didn't want to talk about it, 'You wanted to show me something,' he said, not looking at her.

'It's on the other side.'

'We have to cross the river?'

'We could swim, but that would mean you seeing me in my undergarments,' she giggled at the thought, 'We'll walk, we have a lot of time.'

And time they did have. They had time to sit leisurely on the edge of the river all the while sharing their lives. She tried to keep from touching him so much, but occasionally, her hand would sit atop his on the sand. He learned that she couldn't have honey, it made her lips swell uncontrollably. His favourite discovery about her was the way she closed her eyes and lightly sucked on her lower lip when she spoke of things she liked. He was almost sure that she didn't know she did it, but he noticed and he loved it. So much of her, he learnt at the bank of the river with her feet sunk in the water. They had time to walk around to the other side of the river at the pace they wanted. He kept hold of her hand, which she removed every so often to wipe dry of the sweat she was emitting.

'Are you nervous?' he asked one of the times she was wiping her hand on her dress.

'I'm not,' she produced a small smile, 'I guess I just feel guilty.'

'For being with me?' For his answer, he received a shrug. It was only that, it couldn't be anything else.

'You shouldn't feel guilty.'

'I'm seeing you in secret, I let you hold me, hold my hand...I shouldn't be doing these things. I'm still engaged to Thomas. Not in my heart, but he doesn't know, so I am being unfaithful.'

'Do you wish me to stop holding your hand?' he asked as though it were that simple. Even if he didn't touch her anymore, she would still feel she was betraying Thomas. Just being in Ichabod's presence made her forget that she had another life before she met him.

'I think we should try it,' she said. Unwanted though it was by him, he did as she asked, and they walked along the rest of the way without holding hands. On the other side of the river, she showed him a nest she'd discovered a few days back. It was filled to the brim with eggs. He wanted to know why it was important to her, and she told him she wanted to see the little birds hatch out off their eggs. There was nothing magical about it, nothing special either, her only wish was to see the birds hatch. She wanted to see them come to life.

'I was hoping they'd do it today,' she told him.

'Did you plan for us to come here?' he asked her.

'No. But since we did, I remembered that they were here.' He didn't think she could be any more beautiful than she was, he was mistaken; when she was expectant (like she was) her face transformed into something angelic. She looked angelic and child-like simultaneously. He gasped involuntarily.

'What?' she turned at the small sound he made.

'You are too beautiful.'

The smile she produced in response only amplified her beauty, he couldn't stop himself from caressing her face.

'Let's wait and see if they hatch,' she changed the subject when his eyes studying her became too much to handle for her.

They didn't hatch, they kept waiting, and talking while they did, but nothing happened. No egg hatched. The result of their coming to watch the birds hatching, was talk of their future. He told her where they, the soldiers were camped, that after the following day, he would be leaving. Abbie ignored that part, choosing to focus on him being there with her. Talking didn't get tiring or boring for either of them, Abbie could swear that if he was given the choice, he would spend every waking moment talking to her. Eventually, it started getting dark, and they had to walk back to the Manor. They parted ways when Abbie decided that she would be going to the cottage instead. To bid her goodnight, he raised her hand to his mouth and placed a small kiss upon it.

'I pray you sleep well Abbie.'

'Good night,' she curtsied just for fun, then ran off as one who forcing herself to keep away from him.

* * *

><p>'Grandpa, you wanted to see me?'<p>

When Jenny told her that their grandfather had been looking for her since church, her mind raced to only one conclusion. He had to be upset that she left the church so early and wasn't at home when they came back. Their grandfather had a very strong opinions when it came to church, one of those, was that they always had to return to the Manor as a family, and then have lunch together. Abbie missed both those things, she thought it was the reason her grandfather wanted to see her.

On his face, was the saddest look she'd ever seen him wear in the longest time. For a man who believed in God, her grandfather never had much to complain about, he was simply a happy man, not much bothered him.

'I received a letter today,' he started, 'It was after the service. I'm afraid I have bad news.'

Immediately Abbie could only think that it had something to do with her parents, that they were in some sort of difficulty or something had happened to them.

'What is Grandpa?'

Her grandfather didn't answer, he pulled a folded letter from the table and handed it to her. She reached out to take it from him.

He held onto the letter, 'I think you should sit down for this darling.' Only because she was on the verge of crying did she sit down. His expression made her fear the worst, making her want to start crying without knowing what the problem was.

Once she was seated across him, he let the letter go into her hands. Abbie opened it quickly. It was an extremely short letter, five sentences at most. She read it once in haste, then a second time carefully. She took a small pause after the second reading to collect her mind. Then she read the letter again, more slowly, taking in each word individually, and more carefully. The letter finally made sense to her, she could at last understand what the letter said.

'Abigail?' her grandfather called, watching her carefully.

'Grandpa, may I go?' her voice was unbelievably steady for someone who had just read what she read.

'Are you all right?' he asked in genuine concern. She didn't answer him with words, her answer was to stand up and leave the little room that was her grandfather's study in the cottage. She walked out of the cottage unconsciously; her feet knew how to get around so well that they didn't need her mind telling them what to do. As though in a trance, she walked out into the open night in the direction of the Manor. She ended up at the door of one of the cellar, the very same one she'd brought Ichabod to on the night of the dinner. Retrieving the key from its place, she opened the door, leaving it ajar, then searched for the lamp to bring some light into the room. She sunk onto her behind on the stony floor, placing the lamp beside her. Once again, she opened the letter and read it.

She found she couldn't breathe properly, her lungs weren't clear for breathing. She tried to control her breathing, but failed. There was an immense pressure on her lungs that was working its way up to her throat, creating a blockage of some sort there. Abbie tried to swallow the blockage away, it didn't work. The words in the letter, word for word were now pasted in her mind, she knew them by heart without looking at the letter. Those words were the reason she couldn't breathe properly, they were the reason her throat felt constricted. She started breaking out in little sobs, each one coming out a forced strangled sound. Magically, the mass in the throat waned with each new sob, and her lungs didn't feel so heavy any more.

It was her fault, she thought between her sobs and newly fresh tears, it was all her fault. She was guilty and disgusted with herself. While she carried on her affair with Ichabod, Thomas was dying. He was dead and she never got the chance to break off their engagement, he would never know that she changed her mind about marrying him. It was her fault that he died, he wouldn't have died had he not been travelling to Sleepy Hollow to see her.

Killed in an explosion, the letter said, Thomas' father himself wrote the letter of apology to her. His words weren't many, but they expressed his sorrow enough. He was truly sorry that she was denied the chance of happiness with his son. If only he knew how she'd been behaving the past days, he wouldn't have apologised to her; he would've cursed the very ground she walked on, and with good reason. Abbie wasn't happy with herself either, what should've been a discharge from an agreement, felt to her like murder. She killed Thomas, somehow, her unfaithfulness played a part in taking Thomas' life. How could she be with Ichabod after that, after knowing that she was responsible for the death of an innocent man who had loved her. She didn't deserve to be happy.

She clutched the letter in her hands as she cried, the sobs stopped, but the tears continued to fall silently. Thomas was dead, she was never going to see him again. It was true, she never loved him, yet inside her rose a sorrow she couldn't contain. He'd been a good man, well mannered and gentle, he'd been everything Abbie knew as good, that was why she liked him so much. To have him dead now was a terrible blow. Added to the fact that she felt entirely responsible for his death, she cried harder. She would never forgive herself for the injustice she committed against him. Against all logic, Abbie convinced herself that although Thomas never knew of their affair, her affair with Ichabod killed him. She'd from the start felt like she was betraying Thomas with Ichabod. She would forever remember how she killed him by secretly seeing another man. Well, that man wouldn't be a problem any longer, she was going to break off their relationship the way their relationship killed Thomas.


	13. Chapter 13

Early in the morning, she picked herself up from the cellar floor and crept into the Manor. Even so early, she knew the people would be awake somehow, hence her creeping, she didn't want to disturb anyone. She hadn't had the strength to return to the cottage last night. With the letter clutched in her hands, she couldn't bring herself to leave her solitary sanctuary; she knew that if she went back to the cottage, her grandparents would insist on talking to her about what happened. She didn't want to talk about it, because she knew what happened, she was unfaithful to the man she was meant to marry, and he died. How and why he died wasn't the issue to her, it was that she betrayed him to his death. There was no worse thing in the world. Abbie was sure the guilt of holding feelings for another man while Thomas was dying would never leave her; it would be something she'd carry for the rest of her life. Even if she did decide to remain with Ichabod, her guilt would never go away, no matter how she felt about him. All night she'd spent thinking about how she would go about her life. The conclusion she reached was one she believed was best. Today, she would leave Fredericks Manor, she'd go back to her parents. They were a long way from Sleepy Hollow and it was still a bit dangerous there, but she knew that she couldn't return to any camp or remain in Sleepy Hollow when she knew exactly where Ichabod would be. The option of going to any soldier camp wouldn't in the least make her life easier. As much as she hated to admit it right now, she felt something very deep for that man that she couldn't fully understand how she did, being in place that would constantly make her think of him would be the worst thing for her. She was leaving the Manor for good, that was her decision, she wouldn't let anyone get in the way of her leaving. Ichabod himself was leaving today, she planned to keep him in the dark about everything; Thomas' death, her decision to end their brief affair, and her returning to her parents. She would go see him before it was time for breakfast, put on a show that everything was well with them and let him leave believing the world was on his side. She hated it, she hated herself for it, because she didn't want to hurt him. His heart would be broken if he knew the truth, and that was why she couldn't tell him the truth.

She knocked twice on his door before he came to open up for her. Before she knocked, she'd stood outside his door for a long time, having erased from her mind that Katrina's room wasn't far. She also forgot to straighten her face and tuck the letter into her dress. Her inside was the one she remembered to rearrange, she barred her heart against any sort of words he might have for her. She prepared herself to not be affected by him.

He met her at the door with a bright smile, as if he knew it would be her knocking.

'Good morning,' he pulled the door back wider.

'Morning,' she stepped into the room, hoping she sounded normal, because her inside was shaking. He looked so happy to see her, could there possibly be an easy way to do this. As much as she was convincing herself that it was for the best, seeing him now only made her want to stay with him more.

'You're leaving today,' she said, looking around the room. Maybe if she didn't make eye contact, and she kept away from his touch, she would make it. He pushed the door closed behind her.

' I wish I weren't.'

'I just came to say goodbye before you went, in case I don't see you later.' The lies from her mouth made her tongue feel heavy. She once told him that she didn't like being lied to, now she was the one telling him lies, what sort of person had she allowed herself to become? Her life would've been so much easier had she not met him, or had she accepted him to be with the other woman who was after him. In the back of her mind, a little voice told her that he'd never wanted Miss Katrina, it was always her he wanted. Ichabod walked around to stand before her.

'I need to ask,' he started hesitantly, 'have you spoken to your family yet? I will be returning with Katrina and she believes that I have feelings for her. I need to tell her, I want to tell her.'

Abbie shook her head, to which he frowned, 'I couldn't.'

'What happened?' he took a step to her, bringing them so much closer and stealing Abbie's air supply for a moment. She didn't need him so close to her, already she was starting to doubt if ending their relationship was the best thing, him standing so close and looking at her with concern, wasn't helping.

She looked down to avoid eye contact with him, 'Nothing.'

'No, I meant what happened to you? You aren't yourself, look at me Abbie.'

'And I mean nothing happened to me,' she said to him, still refusing to look at him. There was no way he believed her, much less with her refusing to look at him. Catching her off guard, he closed one hand around her wrist on the hand the letter was, gently, he eased the letter from her hand. She gasped suddenly, only then remembering that she hadn't hid the letter. He wasn't meant to read it, she didn't want him to know the truth.

'Give it back,' she said urgently. If he read what was inside, he would know, then she would be forced to tell him the truth.

'What is inside?' he asked her seriously, seeing the look of urgency on her face.

'Nothing, just give it back.'

'I'm afraid I don't believe you,' he told her as he released her wrist, 'There is something amiss with you, and you refuse to share it with me. Have you so little trust in me?'

'Ichabod please,' she pleaded softly, 'give back my letter. I don't want you to read it.'

His face changed, 'What's in it? What does it say?' Abbie refused to let him ruin her plans, she was not going to allow him to read the letter and know what was going on with her.

Tactfully, to appease him slightly, Abbie stepped almost directly into him, which meant she had to hang her head back to look him in the eyes, 'Ichabod...'

He stepped back from her, 'I would prefer it if you didn't lie to me Abigail, however bad the situation may be, I prefer that you tell me the truth.'

'And I prefer that you give me my letter back.'

'Not until you tell me what's inside it,' he held the letter above him out of her reach.

'I don't want to,' she said.

'I shall read it for myself then,' he announced. Hardly giving her time to register that he was opening the letter in his hands, Ichabod continued to read the letter. She watched him in shock as he read the letter. He must've read it twice, because it wasn't as long as he was reading it for.

'I'm sorry,' he whispered with his eyes still on the letter in his hands.

I'm sorry. Those words echoed in her head. Not even her grandfather had said those words to her; coming from his mouth made her feel as though she was a pure innocent soul that had nothing to do with Thomas' death. It was miraculous how she suddenly felt the sting of Thomas' death. The way she didn't before, she felt an aching for the loss. Abbie started sobbing. Unlike the previous night, her current tears weren't of guilt, they were of genuine sadness. It suddenly was true that Thomas was dead. His two words made her realise that Thomas was dead. There was nothing about whose fault it was, it was that he was dead. She lost him. It was funny, of all things, the man she was going to push away for the death of Thomas was the very man who made her realise that Thomas was dead. She though seeing him would only make her feel guiltier, instead, he made her realise the death of Thomas. He made her feel something completely different, but just as strong. Grief.

'Abbie,' he closed their distance to cup her face in his hands, the letter sliding forgotten to the floor, 'Abbie. Abbie please look at me.' She'd closed her eyes to keep the welling tears inside.

'I need for you to look at me,' he pressed softly, but still she shook her head.

'I cannot imagine how you must feel, but I want you to know I am sorry. It's unfortunate that he died.'

Every word he said was like adding fuel to a fire, instead of comforting her, they rubbed it in deeper that Thomas was dead. Abbie didn't know she could feel so horribly saddened in her life. It was as if he was the first person to die in the world.

'Grace.' His hands let go of her face . Unsure of which trigger it was (her first name or his letting go of her face), she opened her eyes.

Looking directly into her eyes he said, 'I am here for you.' There was no doubt that he meant every word, Abbie knew that he meant what he said. He wasn't making it an opportunity for their relationship, he was giving her time to heal. Her heart twisted in pain at the realisation. She felt pain for being cared for in that way at a time she most felt she didn't deserve it.

'Hold me,' she chocked through tears. Maybe if he held her, the pain would go away. He did so immediately, gathering her to him the closest he could. The first feel of his contact felt unreal, until his hold tightened.

The pain didn't disappear, if anything, she felt more of it. However, she also felt that if he let her go, she would feel much worse. Being held caused more pain, but not being held by him would permit the heartache to kill her. Her quiet sobbing turned into full blown crying, near wailing. She couldn't control herself anymore, not when he held her as he was. Ichabod moved them to the bed, and set her down onto his thighs when he sat. Limply, she fell against his body, continuing in her loud crying. She could feel his hand smoothing over her back while the other held her by the neck to him. Like this, she felt like her pain would eventually leave her.

'Please don't let me go,' she begged as one in pain would.

'I'm here,' was all he said.

'Please don't, please don't,' she repeated, feeling through her sadness that she had to say it over and over for him to grant her that.

'Please don't.'

His tone a mixture between ragged and desperate he said, 'I won't.'

More desperately, she cried, 'Please don't...I don't want you to...please don't.'

Three steps away from the door, stood Katrina in shock at the sight before her. She'd heard crying coming from the room when she came to knock on Ichabod's door. The nurse that she was, didn't think to ask if she could enter, she just did. She'd opened the door and what met her eyes was something she was prepared for. It was Ichabod, her Ichabod, holding another woman in his arms. There was something about the way he held her, even though she wasn't holding him back, Katrina knew he wasn't forcing the interaction. It had to be a mutual act on both their parts. It stung her to the core, nothing could be more hurtful than seeing him holding dearly a woman to his body.

'Ichabod Crane,' she gasped loudly.


	14. Chapter 14

Abbie was unhindered by Katrina's gasp, she continued her crying the way she had been. He wasn't certain if she heard Katrina or not, but he was thankful either way that she didn't jump back in surprise the way he did inside. She needed this moment. There had to be so much going through her mind, who knew all the things she was feeling...no wonder she hadn't wanted to tell him of it.

As though to shield a grieving Abbie from Katrina, his arms encased around her back.

'Katrina please,' he said more harshly than he intended. Abbie's distress and Katrina's sudden appearance had him caught between two types of feelings. The dominant one was the one that held Abbie in his arms for support, while the other, was the sympathetic one that wanted to explain things gently to Katrina. She didn't deserve to find out about Abbie in such a cruel manner. He could tell from the look on her face that she was more than hurt, what he was seeing in her eyes was much more than disappointment.

'Right now isn't the time,' he spoke with careful gentleness, he didn't want to harm her further than he already was, 'Please. We will talk about this at a later time.' He refrained from telling her to leave, that part, she had to figure out by herself. It was that nothing could get in the way of Abbie releasing her feelings, he wouldn't permit it, she meant far too much to him for him to abandon her at a time when she needed his comfort. Katrina sent him a pained look and then she rushed out of the room, leaving the door open behind her. Ichabod couldn't be bothered about the door, if anyone else walked in, he wouldn't care to be found providing supportive comfort to the woman he loved. It wasn't the time to think about himself or the consequences that would come of them being discovered, he cared only that Abbie received what she needed.

He laid her down on his bed. Her crying had turned into soft whiny sounds, until he heard nothing from her. She'd fallen asleep, or rather, she'd cried herself to sleep. The knowledge of that stabbed him deep in the stomach; she was such a masterpiece of beauty, an excellent spirit, she didn't deserve the cruelty life dealt her. If he could take her place, if he could carry her burden within his heart, he wouldn't think twice to do it.

Asleep, she looked untroubled, as though there was nothing that could take away her peace, but he knew better. Sleep was just a temporary escape of the reality that awaited her from her slumber. He knew from experience, that things would be bad before they got better for her, but no matter what, he would be with her all the way. That was the promise he made within himself as he tucked a light sheet over her small body in the bed. Before leaving her to sleep, he placed a light kiss on her forehead, it was his promise that he would be back. He walked quietly out of his room straight to Katrina's room. She didn't answer when he knocked, neither was she in the room when he peeked inside. Upon seeing her packed belongings atop the bed, he remembered that they had to be returning to the camp today. It was still early in the morning, if she was anywhere it had to be at breakfast. Just as he thought, she was there in the dining room, having her first meal of the day. Lachlan Fredericks was there as well, and they were having a light conversation about shrubs of all things.

'Mr. Fredericks,' he inclined his head to the owner of the house. Katrina, upon seeing him turned her face the other way, away from him, as though he was offensive to look at. He reasoned that he most probably did deserve it.

'Mr. Crane, join me for a final breakfast before you leave. I trust your stay has been pleasant,' Lachlan said with a suggestive smile. His stay had been pleasant, but today of all days, he couldn't smile, he couldn't be happy, and certainly couldn't leave, not when Abbie was grieved the way she was.

'I have had the most wonderful time here sir, thank you.' He thought about taking a seat at the table, but decided against it, 'I'm afraid I will not be joining you for breakfast...I would actually like to have a word with Katrina.'

'Oh!' Lachlan exclaimed, 'Katrina. I shall leave you two to talk,' he started getting up when Ichabod stopped him.

'Oh no please,' he said, 'don't get up on my account.' He looked directly at Katrina who was still avoiding him, 'Katrina, may I please..?'

When she relented, he waited for her to walk out first so he could follow her. They ended up in her room, that was where she led them.

As soon as the door closed behind him, she crossed her arms and asked, 'What have you to say to me?'

'I'm truly sorry that you had to discover the truth that way.' He didn't want to make things more complicated than they already were. His intention was never to hurt her.

'And what truth is that?'

Ichabod hesitated a bit, it wasn't easy, 'That Abigail is the woman I love.' Nothing came from her, she stared at him as though she was waiting for him to say more.

'I never meant to hurt you Katrina. I value you too much.'

'Tell me one thing Ichabod, was there ever a time you felt something for me?'

The truth was he'd tried, everything short of forcing himself, he'd tried. On so many occasions he'd tried, but he never managed to replace Abbie from his head.

'Katrina,' he sighed, dreading the effect his next words would have on her, 'before I met you, I knew Grace already. I've carried her with me for the longest time. Since I left the British camp, I couldn't let her go...she has always been with me.'

No person ever wanted to hear that. He was being cruel to Katrina, because if Abbie spoke such words to him, he'd never survive. He wasn't intentionally being mean, it was just that she had to know the truth, there was no nice way to go about it.

'All those times...you were thinking of her when we were together?' She asked in a perfectly even tone, but he knew the thought cut deep. And her use of the word 'together' made it sound as though, they'd been in relationship that was more than friendship.

'I never meant to hurt you Katrina,' he said after a while. There was no chance of the conversation happening in an easy way.

'I would've preferred that you told me the truth from the start. I made a fool of myself before you, I practically shoved it in your face that I love you...I can imagine how you've been laughing behind my back...I never imagined that you were a scoundrel Ichabod, I truly believed you to be better than that.'

'You are worthy of love much more than mine Katrina,' he said desperately. He didn't like to see her so distressed.

'Don't insult me!' she shrieked, 'And don't insult that girl in that room! Your love is all I've cherished in that bleak camp, I looked forward to the day you would confess of your secret love for me...how dare you say such a thing!'

'Calm down Katrina, I beg. Getting upset solves nothing, please.'

'Do you truly love her?'

'Undoubtedly,' he said without skipping a beat.

'She's getting married Ichabod. Now, I don't know if she told you or didn't, but she is.'

'She isn't,' he said.

'You knew,' she said suddenly realising that he'd known all along, 'You knew and still you had an affair with her?'

'It was never an affair! I always loved her, we never did anything wrong. Not once Katrina.' The idea that his relationship with Abbie was an affair was insulting and disrespectful, he couldn't keep himself from angering a bit.

'I expected better from you Ichabod,' she said with disappointment, 'I don't know if I can ever look at you the same again.'

'Think what you will Katrina, in this moment, I have more pressing issues than how you look at me. I couldn't control who I fell in love with, and if you choose to hate me for it, I will not apologise for that.'

That was certainly not how he's hoped things would turn out, he'd wanted them to talk as civilized adults, but he'd obviously hurt Katrina more than she let on. He felt truly bad for the way things turned out, and for the way Katrina felt, but he wouldn't apologise for loving Abbie, he could never be sorry for something so wonderful. However, he couldn't leave things the way they were with Katrina, he had to make one last attempt at peace between them.

'Katrina listen,' he said, taking a few steps towards her (Katrina stepped back every step he took forward, a pained look on her face), 'I understand that I've hurt you-'

'You understand nothing Ichabod,' she said softly, 'not a thing about what I feel or me. Please leave my room, I would like to be by myself, I need to prepare to return to the camp.'

He didn't like that she was treating him like the enemy, it hurt, 'Katrina please,' he begged, 'Allow me to explain.'

'Please leave, I have nothing left to say to you.' To emphasise her point, she turned her back to him, facing the direction of the window. Ichabod understood that she had no intention of listening to him or his excuses, she only wanted him to leave.

'Forgive me Katrina, this was never in my plan,' he said before he left, 'I hope you will find it in you to forgive me, perhaps you could turn that love you have for me into forgiveness instead of contempt...know that I care for you nonetheless.' He didn't wait to hear her reply, which he knew wouldn't be receiving, he left her room, pulling the door closed with him. It felt as though he was closing a part of his life. For a moment, he lingered with his hand around the knob outside her door. As strongly as he felt he was closing a part of his life, it didn't feel incorrect or unwelcome, on the contrary, he felt as though a sizable amount of pressure had been relieved off him. It suddenly dawned on him that he'd been burdened by the knowledge of Katrina's feelings for him, and it had been made much worse when he found Abbie. He could now inhale, because that burden was off his shoulders, he didn't have to carry it with him anymore. Ichabod let go of the doorknob and walked back to his room with the knowledge that he had one less thing to worry about in his life. Whatever direction Katrina chose to take with the truth he gave her, that wouldn't be up to him, he did his part and could in no way be blamed for whatever she decided from then on.

* * *

><p>He made his decision, he wasn't returning to the camp just yet, he had to stay until he knew that Abbie would be fine. It wasn't ideal, nor was it wise, but for once he wasn't thinking about his duty to the country he was serving, he was thinking about his duty to the woman he loved, he couldn't leave her at such a time. Perhaps the General would not understand that, but he had a heart, and that same heart beat for a woman that needed him by her side for now. Ichabod returned to his room knowing that she wouldn't be awake, but he went anyway, having first borrowed a book from Lachlan's library. He planned on sitting in the room until she awoke. No sooner than he closed the door to his room, than a knock sounded on his door. He pulled it open only a little.<p>

'I want to talk my sister.' Outside stood Jenny, Abbie's younger sister, he looked at her questioningly, how did she know Abbie was in his room?

'I know she's here, where else would she be?' she asked as though it were the most obvious thing in the world. Ichabod said nothing, he only pulled back the door wider, allowing her in, only for her to see that her sister was asleep.

Jenny went over to the bed and started shaking her sister to wake up, 'Abbie! Abbie, wake up!'

'Perhaps,' he interrupted, not liking what Jenny was doing, 'you should allow her to rest. She's rather unwell at the moment as you must know.'

'Our parents are here,' Jenny said. She turned to face him, hands on her hips.

'On the Manor?'

'Yes, with my grandparents, and they want to see her,' she said urgently, then turned back to shake her sister awake again.

'Miss Jenny,' he tried to stop her by holding her arm, 'please, leave her be. Once she's awakened, I will tell her what you've told me.'

'Look,' Jenny's urgency faded, replaced by sympathy, 'I know you want her to have this, but Grandma knows for a fact that she isn't at the river, and she will be coming to look for Abbie if I don't go back with her. Trust me, whoever you are, if Grandma finds Abbie in here, she'll complain to Lachlan and he's very fond of Abbie...you don't want him on your bad side.' He considered her words, they sounded genuine and he had no reason to doubt her, she sounded like she was concerned for him as well as her sister.

'All right,' he gave in, 'but at least let me wake her. I find your manner rough if I may.' He didn't know if he could be so very forward with Abbie's sister, but when she smirked slightly and shrugged, folding her arms across her chest, he knew that he didn't offend her. He stepped forward when she stepped out of the way, crouching down.

'Abbie,' he called softly near her face, using a hand to caress across her face. He had no desire to deprive her of the little peace that was sleep, but he had no choice. She looked no less than perfect in slumber, it was a shame he would be taking that away.

'Abigail, you need to wake up,' he said just as softly as before. The one thing he knew about touch was that when done right, it produced the best results. Abbie's sister had been shaking her, which no doubt wasn't pleasant and so Abbie wouldn't wake, but when a caring touch was administered, especially to someone who was going through pain, a positive result was always the outcome. Slowly, Abbie's eyes started to open.

'Abbie,' was all he could say as he waited for her to get her bearings, to return to the present.

'What?' she asked, closing her eyes again. It was clear she only wanted to sleep.

'You have to go.' He made sure to keep his hand on her face so that she wouldn't think he was chasing her away.

'What?' she asked again.

'Abbie!' Jenny came from around Ichabod, 'You need to come with me. Your parents want to see you...they travelled all this way.' Unlike Ichabod, she didn't have time to be gentle.

'Is this about Thomas?' she asked.

'I don't know, maybe. I just know they're waiting,' she said, then looked at Ichabod, 'please tell her to come with me.'

'You have to go talk to your parents,' he tried, not knowing if he would convince her or not. After a moment of looking at both Jenny and Ichabod, Abbie decided to get up.

'You'll be here?' she asked him. Whether she was referring to him leaving or remaining in the room, it didn't matter, because he wasn't going anywhere.

'I'm not leaving,' he let her know. She had to know that he wasn't. More than the 'thank you' he could see she wanted to say, her expression said it all. In that moment, he felt as though he had done her a great service, more so when her small hand reached out to touch his forearm. He placed his hand atop hers.

'I'll be right here,' he said softly, to which she nodded thankfully. Jenny pulled her out of the room, probably knowing that they both weren't willing to let Abbie go.

'I'll bring her back myself,' Jenny said to him over her shoulder. He didn't see the small smile on her face when she said it, but he got the most distinct feeling that Jenny approved of him.

* * *

><p>Just as she promised, Jenny came back to his room. He frowned when he failed to see Abbie with her.<p>

'She's waiting for you outside,' Jenny said in reply to his frown.

'Outside where?'

'Just outside. She said I should call you.'

He didn't waste time in going outside. As he walked past Katrina's room, he wondered if she'd already left, but carried on walking. He found her outside the house. Exactly just outside the front door.

'I need to tell you something,' she said, holding out her hand for him to take. With no hesitation, he did, allowing himself to be led into the garden. He expected that they would go around to the cellar or somewhere more private, but she led them into the open garden in front of the house. There was a little constructed pond close to the main entrance of the Manor, that's where she gestured for them to go. He only sat after she sat on the little brick wall.

'I feel guilty,' she started immediately, 'I feel so guilty for the death of Thomas, I feel like it's my fault he died. And maybe you can't understand why, but I just feel that way.' He looked like he was going to interrupt, Abbie shook her head lightly to stop him.

'I liked him, I really did...his death really hurts me and I feel responsible. You need to know that, also that I don't think I'll ever feel differently about his death.'

'What are you saying Abbie?' Because he didn't understand; it sounded to him like she was planning on putting them on hold until she didn't feel guilty anymore, which sounded very indefinite.

Abbie let go of his hand and looked away, 'I was going to leave today...when I came to you in the morning, I was only coming to see you for the last time, pretend that everything was okay, and then I'd go back to where my parents were. I thought I could do it.' At this point she looked back at him, produced a small smile then continued, 'I can't help what I feel for you, and I learned that when you hold me, I don't feel so bad...is that wrong?' He thought he'd known all the righteous people in his life, but beside him sat the most perfect being he would ever know. For her to feel responsible for the death of someone because of her feelings for him only strengthened his awe of her; her inner beauty was just, if not more than her outer. He couldn't contain himself. It was that, and it was that she was staring at him with her sad beautiful eyes, expecting an answer for her question, that led him to lean his face forward and touch his lips to hers. He only meant for it to be a small peck, but upon touching her lips with his own, he felt their softness, then he had no will to stop just there. Softly, so as not to scare her away, he drew one lip of hers into his mouth, running the tip of his tongue over it. Abbie sucked in a breath at the development and he immediately pulled back, he was sure he was scaring her away.

'Forgive me,' he apologised quickly. The act itself wasn't what he was sorry for. He searched her eyes for rejection or anger. Instead of those, he got a smile; it started from her eyes before it reached her lips, 'I've never...' she said.

'I didn't mean to,' he told her, 'it just happened. I don't want to take advantage or make you feel worse...I just...'

'Ichabod,' she called softly, 'it was nice, I liked it.'

'You're not upset?'

'No. And it didn't make me feel worse...thank you.' Her hand delicately caressed his cheek to prove that he didn't offend her.

'I don't want you feeling guilty Abbie, you and I never did anything wrong, that letter said that Thomas died more than a week ago, before all this. You have nothing to feel guilty for.'

'I can't help it...but at least I know that I don't want to let you go...even if I feel guilty, I do want to continue with you.'

'I'm glad to hear you say that.'

'Jenny said I must tell my parents, but you're leaving today...when will I see you again?'

'I'm not leaving, not yet.'

'You have to. I can't be the reason you abandon your fight. I want you to go. It gives me time...'

'You won't leave the Manor?'

'No. I promise.'

'I know you must feel-'

'I do,' she considered her words quietly, 'This moment, I don't though...being with you feels nice. I mean, I still feel his death and my guilt, but somehow being with you makes it less or I don't know.'

Why did she want him to leave then if she said his presence was a sort of comfort for her, he asked her about it, 'Yet you still want me to leave?'

'You have to go. It's important what you're doing. And I'll get time to talk to my family about you...'

He wasn't fully convinced that he should go; the most part of him didn't want to go, he wanted to stay and help her through the difficult time. He knew the worst was still to come, when the realisation would hit her so hard before she had a chance to shelter herself from the fall. He dealt with death twice in his life, and he never had good emotional support, he didn't want her to go through the same things he did. He tried protesting, but she won him over, eventually making him agree to leaving that afternoon as had been originally planned. He shifted uncomfortably when the topic of travelling back was touched on, he hadn't yet told her of what happened with Katrina after she found them.

'I spoke to Katrina,' he told her, 'she's not too happy with me at the moment.' He explained in detail what happened, Abbie listened attentively, giving small nods here and there to show that she was following the retelling. At the end of the account of what happened, she simply stood up and asked him to come with her, not mentioning a single thing about Katrina.

'Where are we going now?' it was that he only wanted to remain by her side until he had to go. Now that he was sure he was going, he didn't want to waste the precious few moments with her.

'I'm really hungry,' she pulled him up, 'we're going to the kitchen. And then I'll help you gather your things.'

'I have nothing with me, well not worth packing anyway.'

Abbie shrugged as though the fact didn't matter, 'We'll just sit in your room then, I don't know.' He wanted to press her for an opinion on the Katrina situation, but he thought that if she didn't tell him anything, it was because she didn't want him to know her thoughts.

* * *

><p>It was time to leave. Still a little reluctant to leave her, Ichabod made his way to the carriage that was waiting for him and Katrina. Abbie stood outside with some of the servants and Lachlan to say goodbye to them. He waved in their direction, his gaze especially focusing on Abbie for an extended time. He didn't know when next he would see her, though one thing was clear, he would be back to see her. As he climbed into the carriage next to a silent Katrina, he remembered how shyly Abbie had asked him to 'do that thing you did in the garden again,' she'd looked so precious in her timidity sitting on his bed. It hadn't been longer than the time in the garden, but it was a good enough moment to keep him until the next time he saw her, along with all the memories of the time he spent in her company.<p> 


	15. Chapter 15

It didn't take an hour for her to return to her grandparents' home to the rest of her family. The way she thought, if they were going to kill her for her confession, at least Ichabod would be away from the Manor, away from harm's way.

They didn't kill her, nor did they shout at her. At first, their complete silence terrified her, because her grandmother never didn't have a word to say, and also because her father stared at her with the most unreadable expression on his face. The only comfort she had, was Jenny's small encouraging smile next to her. Her sister had told her not to worry, that they wouldn't think badly of her, but Abbie had her doubts, and they were increased by the guilt she felt for the death of Thomas.

When she'd spoken and hung her head to hear the verdict of her family, her mother was the first to speak.

'Your father and I never wanted you to get married to Thomas,' she said gently, 'We couldn't say anything because you made that choice.' Abbie and Jenny knew that when their mother spoke before their father did, things would be all right.

'You aren't disappointed with me?' her head shot up in surprise.

'No,' her father shook his head, 'You are a responsible lady Grace, and we know you wouldn't make irresponsible decisions. Of course, we don't know anything about this Ichabod, but if you love him...do you love him?'

'I don't know,' she answered immediately. The truth was, she wasn't yet sure, if she loved him, 'I really like him.'

'He loves her Daddy,' Jenny said to their father. All their eyes turned to her, she shrugged, 'It's true. He didn't tell me, but I saw it.' Abbie never appreciated her sister more than she did in that moment. Her family knew that approval from Jenny was the highest form of praise there was. With Jenny's testimony, they couldn't reject Ichabod.

'Darling listen,' her mother began, 'we can't stop you from living your life. We only want you to be happy.'

Abbie was feeling much more assured, but her grandmother's silence still worried her, 'Grandma? You haven't said anything.'

'Abigail...are you sure that's what you want? To be with him?'

'Grandma...' Abbie didn't know how to answer that, it was as if her grandmother didn't approve. Her grandmother's approval was everything to her.

Apparently reading her granddaughter, Grace answered, 'I have no problem with the two of you being together...it's just, not everyone is nice about mixed race relationships. Out there, there will be things we can't protect you from, that's all that worries me. If you love this man, then that's enough to fight against everyone for, but if you aren't sure, you would suffer all sorts of things for nothing my dear.'

Abbie considered the words of her grandmother. She knew that not all people saw black people as people enough. Long ago, she'd heard a story of a black man, Nicholas, who'd fallen in love with a white woman, Amber. Amber's parents had no problem with the relationship, and neither did Nicholas' family (his parents died when he was young), but pressure from the community made them send Amber and Nicholas away to another place where they could have some peace. The couple suffered much from the hands of the people, firstly, they couldn't find a priest willing to marry them, and Nicholas refused to leave the town without being married to Amber. When a kindly old priest secretly married them, they moved away, only to be attacked by a more vicious lot than in their hometown. Assaults got so bad, that Amber lost her pregnancy in the early months. That had been the breaking point for Nicholas; he went out and took his furiousness out with a sword on any person he could find. He was jailed and killed, and Amber who couldn't handle the events that happened in such a short time, took her own life. Abbie didn't like to think about that story, it put frightening thoughts in her head, but she imagined that was what her grandmother was referring to. She only hoped that she and Ichabod wouldn't suffer in the same way.

'Thank you Grandma,' she said at last. In addition, her grandfather offered to marry them if they wanted. More than she thought, her family was supportive about the whole thing, something she expected she wouldn't be getting. But as it turned out, none of them actually ever wanted her to marry Thomas, they all thought he wasn't the best person for her, as lovely as he'd been. It warmed that her family was being supportive when she didn't deserve it. Later, when the sun had set, and was in the room Ichabod had slept, she cried for a time on the luck she had. Surely, she didn't deserve all that goodness from life, but she was getting it, it seemed unfair somehow. It was much later, when she'd dried her tears and was randomly going through the things in the room, that she found a letter addressed to her from Ichabod. She wondered when he'd written it, or why he didn't tell her about it before he left, but when she read it, she realised that it had been his plan all along, he meant for the letter to be a surprise for her. For the following weeks, it was the thing that kept him close to her at all times.

* * *

><p>Although she never gave him the chance, Ichabod never stopped trying to rebuild his friendship with Katrina. Every chance he got to talk to her, he took wholeheartedly, disregarding her reluctance. In the end, she gave in, allowing him the chance to try to mend their broken friendship. Katrina agreed to them being friends again, and slowly, over the course of two weeks (in between missions that Ichabod was sent on), they developed into good companions again. Ichabod was thrilled that Katrina didn't hold hard feelings towards him or Abbie, that she wished them well for their future. Soon, he was eating with her, because she wouldn't stop insisting that he be well nourished. He didn't mind it at all, he liked the company, and so did she. They talked, they laughed, and they discussed their plans for the future once the war was over. There were rumours that the war would be over soon. Ichabod never dared to question the General about it, but deep in his heart, he hoped the rumours were true. The ending of the war meant that he could begin his life with Abbie, that for the first time since he left England, his life would be complete and perfect. Every night, no matter where he was, he wrote Abbie a letter. Some were longer than others, some were poems of her beauty and his love for her; mostly he wrote her about his day and the countless times he thought of her, or how it had been the thought of her shy smile that got him through the misery of the place he was in. Or the last kiss they shared before he left; at times he could still feel her uncertainty as their lips touched. He kept all the letters in a safe box for her to read at a later time, because sending them to her would inconvenience him. All he had to do was survive the war, win it unharmed and whole. He couldn't bear the thought of returning to Abbie with a broken leg or arm or maimed in any way. He couldn't burden her with his disabilities; if it came to that, he didn't know what he would do. Not being with her wasn't an option for him, but again, being with her in a condition that was less than whole wasn't something he wanted to put her through.<p>

The days turned into a month, and he missed her terribly. His prior thoughts that the memories of their time together at the Manor would keep him until the time came to see her again, were wrong. The memories had been enough, until they were not enough. Suddenly, one night, after he'd returned from a dinner with Katrina, he was overcome by a powerful desire to see her, to talk to her, to just be near her. He didn't understand how it suddenly come about that the memories that had been sustaining him couldn't abate the hunger-like desire he had, to be near her. He asked himself if it was another sort of desire, (of the carnal kind) that he was beginning to feel. Even as he tried to reason that way with himself, he knew it wasn't so, because the desire was coming from his heart, not his head. There was nothing carnal about his desire to be near her. As difficult as it was, he fought strongly against the aching, until he fell asleep. The following two nights presented him with the exact same difficulty, robbing him actual breath for a moment. He had the oddest thoughts that he would die if he weren't with her, that he needed her so much that his actual life depended on it. By the third night, he felt hot and bothered, and his heart felt like it would shatter for the aching he had for Abbie. He tried to understand where the desire was coming from without finding an answer. He longed for her as though his heart had recently discovered that it loved her and wanted to spend every waking by Abbie's side. The intensity of the longing was confusing for him, especially since it brought with it physical side effects. At times, he would stop breathing, at others, his heart would beat unusually fast. The worst was that it only happened at night, he would fall asleep only once he had drenched his sheets completely in sweat. It was as though something inside him ignited an excess amount of love that his body didn't know how to handle. He thought of speaking to Katrina about it, but when he sought to be around her, his head would throb enough to shatter, so he kept what he was going through to himself.

On the sixth day, his nightly torment having yet again stolen most of his strength, the General ordered him to ready himself, for he would be leaving for a great battle, one that would determine the fate of the American people. As he went out to prepare himself, he succumbed to the physical and emotional strain of the night that was still in his system. He fell to the ground before he reached his tent.

* * *

><p><strong>Next chapter is final chapter. So yay.<strong>


	16. Chapter 16

**Apology for the looooong chapter, it's just that everything happens in a short span of time, I didn't want to do different chapters. I'm sorry again.**

She woke up late in the afternoon one spring day, with only one thought in mind; she was going to write Ichabod a letter. She'd been meaning to do it for weeks since he left, but she never convinced herself hard enough to actually do it. She'd never been the writing letters type, she always believed in saying something directly to someone's face, that way, they would know if she was being honest or not. Yet, she couldn't rid herself of the need to write Ichabod a letter, she wanted him to know so many things, she needed him to know that she missed him and wished to see him again. The only problem was, she couldn't gather enough will to sit down and write the letter. Mostly, she felt embarrassed to do it, she'd never written anyone a letter before, she was scared Ichabod wouldn't appreciate it as much as she wanted him to. Her relationship with him was something she was sure about, but even in all her sureness, there were a few things that she felt she still had to get comfortable with. Of course, she could tell him anything, because she felt close to him and that she knew him, but still, there were a few things she had to fall into. That afternoon however, she woke up determined to write the letter, because if she didn't do it then, she would lose will and then never get around to doing it. Knowing the best place to do that without interruption was Mr. Fredericks' study -no one would bother her in there- she went in there. Lately, she'd been the person everyone needed, either for this or for that, they always needed her for something. Or maybe it had always been that way, she just never got the chance to experience it, because she was away all the time. The best escape she got was when she went with her grandfather to church; at least he didn't need her attention so much. Mr. Fredericks' study was a close second because in there, she could hide from her grandmother and read all the books she wanted. She could also hide from Jenny and Mr. Fredericks himself; at times, they really took all of her time, that she didn't even get time for herself. She had a favourite corner in the study, where she sat on the floor, behind an armchair, that even if someone came in, they wouldn't see her unless she made herself visible by standing up, but even that wasn't a guarantee, because the armchair was almost as tall as her.

First finding writing material in one of the drawers in the table, she went to make herself comfortable in her favourite corner. She folded herself into the most comfortable position she could manage and still be able to write; it was times such as these, that she appreciated being small and flexible. She began thinking of what she should write first. All that she wanted to say was there in her head, she had everything sorted into categories of which would come first and which would close, though she couldn't decide how to begin before she began with the planned beginning. What was it that people normally wrote when they were writing to people they felt something for? She didn't want to start with the old fashioned 'Dearest Ichabod', it sounded too grown up and very much unlike her. She giggled at the thought of him reading that and wondering who'd written the letter for her. No, she had to write something that was typical of her, something that she would say. To help herself get started, she imagined herself at the river, meeting Ichabod there for the first time in a long time. Whatever she would say to him there, that was what she would write. The first words of greeting came easily enough, she quickly put them down on the writing paper, with a smile on her face. As she was getting ready to write the following words, she heard the door to the study open. Sometimes, she liked to remain unnoticed until Mr. Fredericks or whoever it was that was cleaning up the study got what they needed from the room and left it. She thought of doing the same, not making herself known until whoever it was left. She realised it was Mr. Fredericks when he spoke, his voice was an urgent plea to the person he was talking to.

'Come, let's talk in here, no one will bother us.' Soon after his words, the door closed, and Abbie heard soft shuffling on the floor. Although she understood that the conversation that was going to take place was meant to be a private one, she drew herself even closer together to keep from being discovered. It wasn't that she was nosy to hear what it would be about, it was just that she couldn't make herself known anymore.

'Tell me what happened Katrina,' the man Abbie knew well said, his voice still very urgent-sounding. At the name Katrina, Abbie's ears shot out, what was Miss Katrina doing on the Manor? Was it something witch-related? Jenny often said that she made frequent appearances at the most random of times.

'Lachlan,' her voice rang all the way to curled up Abbie, unlike Mr. Fredericks' voice, hers was a frantic mess, 'something has gone wrong. I've done something that I shouldn't have.'

'Katrina, calm yourself, and tell me what has happened. I cannot help you without knowing what the matter is.'

'My intention was never to hurt him,' the woman said.

'I'm sure it wasn't. But I need to know what exactly you did to him, he looks in pain Katrina.'

'It began,' she started to say, 'about three weeks ago. We began talking again, he was ever so polite, and I thought he finally came around...he was eating with me, and we spoke of many things, but he never mentioned her, so I thought his infatuation had passed.'

Abbie wondered from her corner who she was talking about, and what had happened to the poor man.

'And so what did you do Katrina? That doesn't explain why he looks ready to die.'

'One night, six nights ago, I slipped him a potion with his drink as we ate.'

Abbie heard the sounding of feet on the floor, she guessed one of them was walking to the other, 'What kind of potion?' It was Mr. Fredericks who was asking. A little silence followed, in which Abbie felt more than curious to know; it confirmed that Miss Katrina was really a witch, slipping unsuspecting people potions wasn't something normal humans did.

'That of love,' she said in a small voice. Abbie was only able to hear it, because it had suddenly gone quiet in anticipation in the room. It was as though everything in the room suspected what was coming next would be a shocking revelation.

'A love potion?' Mr. Fredericks' voice reached Abbie's ears as an outrage, he didn't sound happy at the revelation.

'Katrina! How is it that you gave that man a love potion? What possessed you to do such a thing?'

'Lachlan please, I was afraid of losing him,' she cried desperately.

'But you were certain he loved you back!' he half shouted, 'What changed between then and the time of the potion?'

'The time,' she started saying nervously, 'he spent here changed him Lachlan. I wasn't certain anymore.'

Abbie didn't know who they were talking about, just that he had apparently spent time at the Manor. She wondered if she had met the man they were talking about. Judging by the tone Mr. Fredericks was using, Abbie knew it was more serious a thing than she was able to understand, although she didn't get how a love potion could cause pain on anyone.

'Katrina, that was a dark piece of magic you used. You know it's against coven laws to use a love potion. The consequences of a love potion gone bad are nearly irreversible, you know that Katrina for goodness' sake. What possessed you?'

'I am ready to accept responsibility, but you need to help me Lachlan, I cannot lose Ichabod.'

Abbie, hidden away in her corner, involuntarily let go of the writing material in her hands. They fell to the floor with a soft thud, but her hands remained still. So did the rest of her. She was so sure she heard the name Ichabod. In a tiny second, her mind put everything together.

A man in pain, on the point of death. Because of a love potion. The man was Ichabod. Her Ichabod. She gasped loudly after the realisation.

'Abbie?'

Mr. Fredericks discovered her, she could see him standing before her, a hand held out for her to take, but she couldn't move. Her mind was still processing that Ichabod was here on the Manor, and from what she heard, was close to death.

'Come Abbie,' Mr. Fredericks tried again, 'Get up from there.' He offered her his hand again, which she only took because it was right in her face. She was petrified, all of her body was closed in shock, too much to even think that Mr. Fredericks was upset that she had been eavesdropping on a conversation that had nothing to do with her. But it did have something to do with her, it was about Ichabod. Mr. Fredericks started leading her out in the direction of the door, but once Abbie caught sight of Miss Katrina, she unfroze, her senses came back, she remembered why Ichabod was apparently on the point of death.

'No,' she said, nudging her hand from Mr. Fredericks'.

'Abbie please, Katrina and I would like to have a private conversation. Could you excuse us, it's rather important.'

'No,' she shook her head, 'I want to know what happened.' As she spoke, she looked only at the other woman, who looked back at her with teary eyes.

'I will tell you,' the man promised, 'but not now.'

'You don't understand Mr. Fredericks,' she said, not taking her eyes of the other woman, 'Ichabod is important to me, I need to know what's wrong with him. What did she do to him?' Abbie had planned on telling Mr. Fredericks about Ichabod, it was just that he was never available enough so they could sit and talk. She never got around to telling him about Ichabod.

'Katrina?' he called softly (she turned to him). Abbie just knew that he was asking something, something she didn't yet understand.

'I thought it was temporary,' she answered, 'When he told me about her, I assumed he was enchanted by her innocent beauty.'

Abbie couldn't believe what she was hearing, she didn't know much of what they were talking about, but she knew Miss Katrina was talking about her. How was it that she thought Ichabod was only enchanted?

'He loves me,' she heard herself blurt out, it was an automatic reaction to feeling cornered.

The red-haired woman turned back to Abbie, 'I didn't know,' she denied. Abbie would've believed her if she didn't know for certain that Ichabod had told her the truth, and she denied it.

'You did know Miss Katrina,' Abbie replied hotly, 'Ichabod told you, but you didn't listen to him. What did you do to him?' At the moment, it was all Abbie was interested to know, she wanted to know how Ichabod was doing, and what exactly was the matter with him. It took Mr. Fredericks intervening to get her to tell them what had really happened.

Apparently, six nights ago, like she said earlier, she gave him a love potion. She wasn't aware that he'd been feeling pain or going through a difficult time, because he never said it to her. They still ate together, they still laughed, but she never suspected that the love potion had gone wrong. It was only last night, when he collapsed to the floor, his skin a flaming red that she caught on that something went wrong. She didn't know what exactly, that was why she rushed to the Manor for help.

'I brought him here at once,' she concluded.

Throughout the narration, the only man in the study remained quiet, possibly assessing what it all meant.

'There's only one thing that made it go wrong Katrina, you know that,' he said at last, 'which means there's only one way to heal him.'

'What is it?' Abbie asked in desperation. She still didn't know the extent of Ichabod's condition, but she cared to know the cure all the same.

'Abbie,' Mr. Fredericks sighed, 'I cannot tell you what it is. I cannot allow that you go through something like that. Forgive me, but I will not tell you. Ever.'

'But,' Abbie cried out, looking from one to the other, 'you said he could die. Why can't we save him?'

'It's not as easy as you think,' he placed a hand on her arm, 'Love potions are dark magic, do not be fooled by the effect they produce. This potion went wrong because Mr. Crane had someone else on his mind as he took it. Had his thoughts been on Katrina, none of this would've happened. He might have been thinking of you, which contradicts the very law that founds a love potion. A love potion has to be consumed in the presence of that person who wishes to steer the affections of another in their direction. Although Ichabod was there with Katrina, his mind and heart were not, which is why it worked out only to harm him. The substance that Katrina brewed the potion with, her own essence, became confused; increasing the desire that was already in his heart, at the same time, attacking him for having desires for the wrong person. The substance was designed only to magnify Katrina in his heart. The problem was, she wasn't the one in his heart, that is why the substance attacked him, while at the same time obligated to strengthen whatever love he had in his heart. You see Abbie, it's a dark magic that causes harm. I cannot tell you the solution.'

'That's not fair Mr. Fredericks,' she cried again. They couldn't punish Ichabod for what Miss Katrina did do him, he wasn't at fault.

'I'm sorry Abbie dear,' he told her softly, 'I cannot allow that you get involved in this.'

'So you're just going to let him die? Do you even know what's wrong with him, how it's affecting him?'

'It is a love potion, it's magic, magic has its own laws and time. A love potion, to be complete in any case needs ten days, no matter if the outcome is desired or not, it completes on the tenth day. Today is the sixth.'

That didn't make a difference, Abbie thought sadly, ten days and six days were exactly the same when they wouldn't tell her what could be done to save Ichabod from death, or whatever it was that it meant for a love potion to be complete.

Desperately, she turned to the woman responsible for the mess, 'Miss Katrina,' she pleaded, 'please, you know nothing can happen to him, what can we do?' she was trying to appeal to the woman in love that she knew Miss Katrina was, if she could get through to her, she would find out the way to save Ichabod.

'Lachlan,' Miss Katrina seemed to cave, 'there must be something we can do.'

'You know there is not,' he answered, looking at both women, 'There's only one solution and Abigail will not perform it. That is the end of it.' He wasn't deliberately keeping the truth from her, Abbie knew, neither was he a bad person who cared nothing if Ichabod died. On the contrary, he loved helping those in need, he was the sanctuary that most people came to in their times of trouble, whatever it was that could be done, he obviously didn't want Abbie to be the one who did it. But what if she wasn't the one who did it?

'What if you or Miss Katrina did it? Couldn't either of you do it?' she asked, a new hope springing to life inside her. She honestly didn't care who did what to save Ichabod, all she cared was that he was saved.

Mr. Fredericks looked worn, the entire thing was causing him distress, 'Listen to me Abbie, magic has its own laws. If indeed you were who he thought of in the moment of the potion, you can be the _only_ one who does what needs to be done. Katrina cannot go near him without causing him more pain. His pain is spiritual, but it manifests itself physically. His spirit needs you, not Katrina. The more Katrina is near him, the more the substance attacks him. It has to be you, Abbie.' For emphasis, Abbie clung onto the arms of Mr. Fredericks, 'Then let me help him please. Mr Fredericks please...' She wasn't aware that she was crying until Mr. Fredericks was clearing tears away from her face with his thumbs.

'I'm sorry Abigail,' he said, 'I cannot let you do that.' Abbie collapsed against him in sadness, letting her feelings out of her in deep wailing.

When she finally calmed down, Mr. Fredericks set her in a chair. Miss Katrina, on Mr. Fredericks' orders left the room, to prepare Ichabod's room. Abbie begged the man to tell her anything that would help Ichabod recover, but all he said were words of refusal, that he couldn't allow her any of it. He told her he would try and make Ichabod as comfortable as he could, because that was all that he could do for him, to which Abbie insisted that she be the one who did whatever it was to make him comfortable. Mr. Fredericks agreed to her suggestion, but not before warning her that it wouldn't be an easy task. Abbie didn't mind.

* * *

><p>Over the next two days, Abbie's life transformed completely. All her time, she spent by Ichabod's side. What little time she had, when he was asleep, she spent talking to Mr. Fredericks about Ichabod, trying without fail to get him to tell her what she could do for Ichabod. She tried gathering as much information about love potions from him as he would tell her, and what exactly it was doing to Ichabod. He never told her more than he did the first day Ichabod arrived on the Manor, which frustrated her more each time she didn't get a reply. She saw the effect the potion had on Ichabod; during the day he was better, almost himself physically, but he still complained that he felt odd inside him, but at night, he suffered the most horrible of times. His skin would be drenched in sweat, he would be overheating, and he complained of feeling too drawn to Abbie, as though it wasn't of his will. The problem with feeling extremely drawn to her was that it caused him pain, his body couldn't contain the desire he felt for her, it was too overwhelming. Abbie didn't dare tell him what was really the matter with him, she kept any talk of Miss Katrina out of the conversations they had. She thought it safer to not mention Miss Katrina at all. It was just as well that Miss Katrina kept out of the way of everyone, because Abbie held a deep dislike for her, and Ichabod didn't ask about her, which was a good thing. Another good thing was the unbelievable support her family was giving her, offering to look after Ichabod when she needed to rest, and allowing her to sleep in the same room as him in case things got bad in the middle of the night. Things did get bad, even before the middle of the night, firstly, it was a difficult task talking him out of letting her out of his embrace (Abbie felt too hot in it), and secondly, not having her close to him felt –according to him- like his lungs were being ripped from inside him. He would breathe heavily if his hand wasn't touching her, or if they weren't making contact. He literally needed her to be with him at all times, especially at night. During the day, being with him wasn't a problem, because he wasn't hot and itchy, he could hold her in his arms and kiss her as much as he liked without causing Abbie discomfort. It was during the day that they got to know each other better, between kisses and falling asleep holding each other<p>

She knew he felt worse than he told her, but as a man of war, he was trained to ignore pain, much more avoid talking about it. She knew he suffered more, because when he eventually did fall asleep, he would groan deeply in his sleep, tangle the sheets around himself with all the turning he did. In those times, Abbie could only hold a wet cloth to his head and wish the pain away. Mr. Fredericks explained why he was suffering that way, why the nights were the hardest, but still he refused to tell her what the one thing was that she could do to save him. On the second night, she asked him if it was possible that Ichabod could die. His answer was yes, eventually, he would have no fight left in him to overcome the attack of the potion, when that happened, his life would end.

'Even though having you by his side is makes him comfortable, it's not enough, nor is it permanent,' he said to her. Her presence was good for him, but it wasn't the medicine he needed, he continued to say, there was only one way to save his life, to reverse the effect of the potion.

* * *

><p>Abbie fell into a chair in the kitchen. She'd just left Ichabod's room telling him she would only be back later when the sun had set. She wanted to go to the church to her grandfather, she needed to talk to him, to ask him for advice. As a person of Godly faith, she didn't know if she was allowed to get involved with witchcraft, good witchcraft or bad witchcraft, if there was even such a thing. At this point she was willing to do anything, even witchcraft, if it meant saving Ichabod's life. It was difficult seeing him that way, she felt as if it was her punishment for Thomas being inflicted on him, because only then would she really feel the punishment. It wasn't fair that he was being punished for her crimes. If he hadn't been in love with her, he wouldn't have been going through all this. A little voice in her head tried to reason that she had no part in making him fall in love with her, and much less in the wicked selfish plans of Miss Katrina. But, the young girl, new to relationships, and quite delicate at heart that she was, the one that still held guilt for Thomas, wouldn't allow herself to get off the hook. She had to take responsibility for things that went wrong. Just a few weeks ago, she'd thought it seemed unfair that she got a happy ending when she didn't deserve it, she was right in feeling that something would surely go wrong somewhere.<p>

She liked Ichabod, she liked everything about him, about being with him. If she had the choice, all her time she would spend by his side. But, underneath all that, was a fragile person that housed negative feelings of guilt and fear that Ichabod would be taken away from her. Those months after she'd met him had been the most difficult of her life; his appearance had changed her life in a way she never thought. Now that she and him were in an established relationship, fear of losing him plagued her. She didn't tell any of that to him, because she knew he would tell her that she had nothing to worry about, that he would never leave her. She couldn't tell him any of what she held inside; not the guilt, not how she feared that one day she would wake up to discover that it'd all been a dream. Her biggest fear was that reality would be cruel, and smack her in the face. People always told her that she was a strong person, responsible and trustworthy, she knew it was true, yet when it came to Ichabod, she was breakable. It was a weakness she had admitted to herself a while back.

Abbie rubbed her forehead to rid those thoughts from her head, it wasn't the time for her to concentrate on herself, she had to gather herself together for Ichabod. However she felt, it would have to wait. All they had left was today, tomorrow would be too late. He didn't know it, but he needed her to do something to save him from the death that was hanging over his head. She couldn't let him die, whatever happened, she couldn't allow that he died. The problem was that she didn't know what else to do; Mr. Fredericks refused to tell her the one thing that would save him. He avoided time alone with her for that reason. He kept insisting that it was highly dangerous and he would never tell her. In the past two days, she'd begged him in tears, pleading that he tell her what she had to do. Miss Katrina, who was the cause of all the problems Ichabod was facing, couldn't go near him, Mr. Fredericks forbade it, and so she couldn't do anything either. What upset her the most, was that they wouldn't tell her anything that was helpful. Mr. Fredericks told her he was doing his best, trying to find alternatives to undoing what Miss Katrina had done, but no action came from him. She sighed heavily at how she was running out of options to saving his life.

'I didn't mean to cause all this.'

Abbie turned around to see who spoke. It was Miss Katrina, her face fell, she was the last person Abbie wanted to see, much less speak to. The woman was still permitted to stay on the Manor, as long as she kept away from the path of anyone that wasn't Mr. Fredericks. He said he needed her on the Manor until Ichabod was out of danger.

Despite not wanting to, Abbie answered, 'You did. And I don't want to talk to you right now. Ichabod could die because of you.' She wondered what had gotten into Miss Katrina; she confessed that Ichabod told her that he didn't love her. Did she think that he wasn't capable of loving Abbie? Was that why she drugged him? Did she believe he was infatuated with Abbie? The thoughts made Abbie angrier with the woman before her.

'I honestly meant no harm,' she walked further into the kitchen, nearing Abbie. Impulsively, Abbie slid off the chair to create some distance between her and the other woman.

'You will have to tell him,' Abbie said coldly, 'I'm not going to do it. He has to hear what you did from you.' It was the first time she and Miss Katrina were talking. Abbie harboured an unbelievable amount of anger towards the woman, she didn't know she could remain angry with someone for such a long period.

'I know how you can fix this,' she said, in attempt to cool Abbie down. Abbie's eyebrows stood on her forehead.

'Me?' It sounded like she had to clean up after Miss Katrina's mess.

'It has to be you,' she explained, 'I can't have any more contact with him until he's well. Besides, I simply cannot do it.'

'What do I have to do?' She was running out options, she would take whatever she could get, besides, this had nothing to do with how she felt about Miss Katrina. She was so desperate that, she didn't stop to think if the help could be helpful or do more damage.

'The way to fix this,' Miss Katrina said in one of her soft tones, 'The way to save his life, is to consummate your love. You do love one another don't you?'

Abbie carefully pretended to not hear the last part; her feelings for Ichabod could be or could not be love, she didn't know, 'It'll save his life?'

Miss Katrina nodded, 'It will.'

Abbie heard of consummation before, she knew what it meant, the problem was that she wasn't ready. But then it would save his life, she reasoned, she couldn't be so selfish, she had to save his life. The truth was, she would do anything to save his life. For one reason, she wouldn't be able to live with the guilt of his death, and for another, she didn't want him to die, not for his love for her, especially not that.

'How would it work exactly?' From what she knew, the love potion had backfired because he'd had her on his mind as he took it. What was to say that consummation wouldn't worsen his condition?

'It works as a counter measure. Where the love potion strengthened his love to the point of overwhelming him, the coupling act will reawaken his heart to the love he felt on his own. That love, will heal the disruption the potion caused.'

'I don't understand,' Abbie said. Although she heard Mr. Fredericks talk about it the other day, she didn't fully understand the impact of the potion, just that it was the reason Ichabod was how he was.

'You don't have to understand, it's more complicated than how I explained. Just do as I have told you.'

'What happens if it doesn't work?' Abbie wanted to know.

'It will work. Things will turn out exactly as I hope.'

'But what if it doesn't work? What will happen to him?' She wanted to know what would happen if it didn't work. Now that she thought of it, it seemed unrealistic that magical effects could be cured by a sexual act. But then, she thought that it was meant to be an act of love, and that made up her mind for her.

'There is no reason for it not to work,' Katrina argued softly, 'As long as you want to save his life, it will work.'

Abbie couldn't waste time in thinking about whether to trust the woman or not, she had to do what she had to do to save Ichabod's life. She had to disregard her own feelings, and rather think for his life. No matter how much she wasn't ready to consummate love she wasn't sure she had for Ichabod, it was her duty to save his life, she was the only one who could. Leaving the red-haired woman standing in the kitchen, she went out in the direction of Ichabod's room on the last floor.

* * *

><p>It required many deep breaths for her to enter his room.<p>

Unlike all the countless times she'd been in there in the past two days, she was nervous now. It was a combination of things that made her nervous; she was afraid about how the backfired love potion would be complete the following day (day number ten), that he could actually die. But, she was also afraid that she was the one had the power to prevent his death. That part made her very nervous, she didn't like to be the one in whose hands his life rested, she wasn't comfortable with the responsibility, especially since she had do to something she wasn't in the least ready for. The only thing that pushed her to go ahead with her plan was the reminder that if she didn't go through with it, he would die, and just like the death of Thomas, she would feel guilty for it. Guiltier even, because unlike Thomas, Ichabod meant more to her.

When she thought she was sober and natural enough, she closed her hand around the doorknob to open it and step inside. As always, he was sitting up in bed (a book in his hands), but looked up immediately as though he was expecting her. It wasn't the first time he was seeing her today, but he smiled at her in welcome as though it was. Butterflies started in Abbie's stomach, his smile made her more nervous and she started to doubt if she could go through with what she planned. She liked him, she really liked him, she liked spending time with him, and in all honesty, time with her was good for his recovery, it made him a little better each time he saw her. However, Abbie wasn't ready to take that step with him yet. It wasn't him, it was her; she was afraid, and feeling a little insecure.

'Hi,' she lifted her hand in greeting, returning his warm smile. Her other hand searched for the key in the lock and turned it, before she left her post at the door and walked to his bed.  
>'You're back.' His acknowledgement was a greeting enough for her, she didn't need more from him. When she left him, she said she would be back only later on, because she thought she would go down to the church to her grandfather and ask for his advice on the best way to go about his situation. That was before she met Miss Katrina and learned something new, that she could do something to make the whole love potion induced thing come to an end. It wasn't ideal for Abbie, but at least it wasn't impossible; it was just very difficult for her to accept.<p>

'I am,' she smiled politely, eyeing the bed and thinking whether to sit on it or not. He made the choice for her by shifting to his left, creating room for her.

'You couldn't stay away?' He was only half teasing. Abbie laughed quietly and nervously at the same time, if only he knew how hard her heart was beating against her chest, 'Actually...'

What should she tell him, she thought urgently, would he understand that she needed to give herself to him in order to save him from the death that was hanging over his head? It was already bad enough that he had no idea what was going on with him, she didn't want him to know that he was sure target for death. Neither did she want to lie to him about her motive for being there in the room with him as. But, even if she told him, what if he didn't understand, what if he couldn't allow any such thing to happen out of necessity and not pure driven want? –he definitely seemed the type to be honourable in all cases. And, if she told him the truth, she would have to tell him that she still wasn't ready to be intimate in that way with him, as much as she liked him. She couldn't do that to him; lying was much worse she knew, but somehow the truth couldn't be what she told him, least of all, the part where she was afraid and reluctant to be intimate physically. Abbie opted to tell him the more convenient thing, the one that would save his life, no matter what that meant for her.

'Is something the matter?' his face creased in concern, setting the book down on the bed.

She shook her head, then swallowed for strength that she didn't get from the action, her heart was still beating wildly, 'I need to tell you something.'

'What is it? You can tell me anything,' he said, reaching for her hands, 'There are no secrets between us.'

Yes there were, lately, there were things that she couldn't tell him until the time was right, and one secret in particular, had to come from the mouth of the woman who put him in that condition in the first place. Abbie wasn't going to be the one who told him that one.

'I,' she swallowed again, 'want to um...' she searched for the best way to say what she wanted to say. All that came to her mind, were the ways in which Jenny referred to it, and those she didn't want to use, they seemed too direct.

'Abbie,' his thumb stroked the top of her hand, 'please calm yourself, and then tell me what you want. I can tell that you are quite the bundle of nerves. It's all right my darling, do not feel rushed to tell me.' She appreciated his words of encouragement or understanding, whichever they were, she felt glad that he was willing to be patient with her.

She tried again, 'I want you and I to...'

Oblivious to what she meant, he frowned in confusion, 'You want us to do what? Would you like us to go down to the river?' She couldn't help laughing, he really had no idea what she meant, and she was too embarrassed and nervous to say it.

'I'm really embarrassed to say it,' she confessed to him through a shy smile. She could barely ask him to kiss her by using the actual word, saying something as big as what she wanted, wasn't going to be easy. She would be lucky if she didn't drench her clothes in sweat before she got the words out. When it came to everything else, she could speak freely to Ichabod, but when it came to the physical affections that weren't handholding or snuggling, she was extremely shy. Only very recently, she fell into kissing with him, which she hadn't even wanted to try for at least a while.

'Is it bad?'

Abbie shook her head, 'It's very, um, you know, when a man and a woman are together in that way.' Her cheeks and ears burned hotly, to which she couldn't resist pulling her hands from his and covering her face with them. Her small hands did little to cover her entire face, but she pressed them tightly against her eyes to shut out his expression (and hide her embarrassment).

'Grace,' he called softly. She expected to feel his hands closing around hers to pry them off her face, but nothing like that happened. It made her curious that he didn't, it wasn't like him not to; she removed her hands from her face herself. Upon seeing the serious look on his face, she sobered up immediately.

'What did you say?' he asked, no trace of amusement in the lines of his face. She kept absolutely still, thinking that she'd offended him. As much of a relief that that should've been for her, she didn't feel relieved at all.

'What did you say to me Grace?' he asked again. If she wasn't too busy remaining petrified, she would've heard that his voice had dropped down to a lower tone, and less inquisitive.

'I'm, I'm sorry,' she started, dropping her head so as not to look him in the face. She honestly thought she'd offended him, she didn't know how to mend it. Gently, she felt his hand tuck under her chin, lifting her face to look back at him, 'You have nothing to be sorry for Grace.'

'Why did you ask me what I said?' she asked in a small voice, 'Didn't you hear me?'

'I heard you,' he said, 'I did hear what you said. I simply wished to hear it again, to know for certain that it is what you want my darling.' She blinked in silence, digesting what he'd said to her, but she needed to know one thing.

'Don't you want to?' her voice was a small whisper, apprehensive of rejection. Rejection would provide the best out, but she didn't want to be rejected, not by him.

'I want to,' he leaned his face forward, into hers, 'I want to more than anything. I desire you too much Abigail. But I can't be with you if it's not what you really want, I love you much too much to have you that way.' Exhaling is what she could manage after he spoke. She thought of everything else, but that, she didn't think that he wouldn't want her, because he loved her. It just seemed a backward reason, except, it wasn't, it warmed her, and made her nervousness vanish just like that. She was still not sure, but the nervousness that accompanied her uncertainty, was gone; she felt brave somehow.

It was a lie, but she said firmly, her eyes set on his, 'I want to.'

'Are you certain?' he asked one last time, probably for absolute clarity. She took his question to mean that he could tell that she didn't seem sure.

'Yes,' Abbie breathed out, 'I'm a little afraid, because my sister told me these things which scared me. But I want to.' It was amazing how she could mix the truth with lies and make them sound true together, which was obviously not true, because anything with a lie in it was just a lie, no matter how much truth was there in it.

'Why?'

She didn't know if he was asking about why she wanted to be with him or why she was afraid, either way, she answered with what first came to her mind, 'I'm afraid, because she said her first time really hurt, and it wasn't all that nice. They didn't know what they were doing. I don't want that.'

'I would never hurt you Abbie,' he assured her, stroking his hand across her cheek, 'You have to trust that I won't.'

She leaned into his caress, enjoying the feel as well as taking comfort in his words. It wouldn't be easy for her, she already felt the worst for lying to him that she wanted to be with him. Well, it wasn't all a lie anymore, not after he implied that he only would accept her if she wanted to be with him with all her heart. It made her curious as to how it would feel, if she would feel the way she was meant to during such an act. She was still afraid she wouldn't like it, and it would be like Jenny and Arthur's first experience, but more than that, she trusted him, she believed that he wouldn't hurt her.

'I do trust you,' she said. He smiled warmly at her, then leaned his forehead against hers, closing his eyes. Abbie closed her eyes too, letting out a deep breath. She was really going through with it, it was really going to happen.

'I love you Grace Abigail,' he whispered, his breath hitting against her skin, 'I love you so much.' Forgetting that his eyes were closed, she nodded to his words. From then on, she would let him take the lead, she had no idea how it went about, what started first and what ended the whole thing. All she knew was that she liked it very much when he kissed her, it made her feel good to the point of strangely nice sensations in her stomach. Opening her eyes to find his lips, she pressed hers to his, then closed her eyes again. He acted instantly to the contact of her lips, falling into the pattern of kissing they'd become familiar with over the past two days. She knew it well, but it never stopped having the effect it did on her; she responded the way she'd learned how, matching his lip movements with her own. Her heart was thumping in her chest, making as if to break free from the excitement coming from the kiss. Slowly, things started changing, his hands travelled to the back of her neck and his lips moved away from her lips. As his hands pulled her face closer to him, he found new places on her face to kiss, then lower down her throat. One particular spot on her throat made her gasp in surprised delight when he pressed his lips to it and teased it with his tongue. Suddenly, he stopped, and pulled back, 'Is the door barred?' She nodded for his answer, she didn't want to talk, she much more preferred he continued doing whatever he did to her throat. When he didn't immediately continue, she blurted out, 'I don't know what to do, you have to show me.'

'Take off your dress then darling,' he breathed. He didn't help her with it, but it didn't matter, because it wasn't one of those fancy dresses that took a long time to put on; she wore a simple home dress that could easily be mistaken for a night gown. After she'd let it fall to the floor, she stood shyly before him in only her undergarment, her upper body was completely exposed. He stood without taking his eyes off her, his mouth slightly open and his eyes wide in wonder.

'Am I...?'

'You're perfect,' was his response to her incomplete question, his hands already reaching for her.

'Then show me,' she requested.

He did show her, actually, what he showed her was the way in which her body could respond to the things he did to her with his hands and tongue and lips. His hands caressed her oh so slowly and lovingly, his lips kissed her on places she didn't know could be kissed and respond that way. His tongue was as nothing she'd ever experienced before, for every time he used it, she felt an odd sensation develop between her thighs. In turn, she used her hands to touch him as well, at first she only used her hands to hold onto him for support, but she they progressed, she felt the need to place her hands on his body. Pinned under him on the bed, she noted that he was still very clothed, nothing of his was off. Over the fabric of his shirt, she felt his upper body, but it didn't satisfy her. She groaned in disproval, because she wanted to feel his skin. Through her groan, he understood and stopped what he was doing to remove his shirt. Her eyes met dark brown chest hair, but when she brought her hands to touch him, he began kissing his way down from her neck, causing her to writhe a little in pleasure, so much so, that her hands automatically grabbed his head to steady her overheating body. Without her noticing how he got there, she felt his soft beard tickling her just below her belly.

'I'm going to help you a little Abbie,' he said, looking up at her, 'Trust me.'

She didn't know what he was going to help her with, just that she did trust him, and whatever it was that he was going to help her with, it could only be for her benefit. The next thing she knew, he was pulling her undergarment down her legs. As it landed on the floor, his hands nudged her thighs apart, then he continued to kiss her from the belly downwards. She thought she felt pleasure before, but it was nothing compared to him playing around her feminine area. Her backside could hardly remain flat on the bed, she couldn't stop the moans coming from her mouth, she had to dig her fingers into his hair in attempt to keep her from exploding right then. He continued with great skill between her thighs while his hands cupped either side of her backside. It was too much for her, the firm squeezing of his hands on her backside, combined with the divine act of excruciatingly gentle sucking, nipping and relishing her most intimate part. Just when she thought she could take no more, he travelled up her body again, right up to her ears, leaving her on the brink of a border she felt she was supposed to step across.

'Are you still with me?' he asked softly, directly in her ear. She didn't know what he meant, because she was aching desperately between her thighs, she felt as though something that was meant to be there was missing. Between panting and twisting her body lightly to ease the throbbing on her delicate part, she asked him what he meant.

'What do you mean?' She had to keep her eyes closed, because she felt painfully good, in need of more from him.

'I'm asking...' he replied just as softly as before. He positioned himself between her legs and began working on the buttons of his trousers. Abbie missed the warmth his body had been providing her with and most of all his hands that had cupped her backside; eyes flying immediately open, she propped herself up on her elbows to see where he'd gotten off to.

'What are you doing?' she asked. It wasn't that she couldn't see what he was doing, or why he was doing, it was just, the abrupt interruption wasn't sitting well with her. She was feeling things she'd never before because of him, and she wanted to continue feeling those things so very much, but she couldn't do that if he was unbuttoning his trousers; it was keeping his attention away from her. She'd gone from unsure and unwilling to extremely wanting from the first kiss; she even forgot that she was doing this to save his life.

Ichabod looked up at her sharply, failing to understand what she meant, 'I'm...' he couldn't continue with words, he had no idea what to say. His face fell and his hands stilled instead, 'You don't wish to continue?'

'I do,' she said firmly, 'it's just...please hurry.' He didn't need telling twice; in a second his trousers and undergarment were on the floor, and he was lowering himself over her again.

'I was asking,' he began kissing her once again, pinning her arms flat on the bed, 'if you are able to continue with me? To the more wonderful part?'

There was a more wonderful part, Abbie thought to herself, how did that feel like, if what she was feeling now was simply magical? She nodded in any case, keeping her eyes closed to relish in the feel of him on her body. Along the inside of her thigh, she felt something hard, but her attention of that was stolen away by his hands closing around either breast. His hands kneaded softly, as she would knead dough for bread, only with more care and softness. It felt marvellous, she heard herself moan in pleasure; much more when his hands were replaced by his mouth.

'You have to tell me when you are ready, all right darling?' he transferred his mouth from one breast to another, 'When you can't take more of that yearning between your legs, you let me know.'

It didn't take long after he had her second breast in his mouth. Because simultaneously, one of his hands slipped between her thighs and started stroking there with his fingers. Her body was sensitive to everything he did, the only way to keep herself from losing herself completely was by gripping him as hard as she could wherever her hands landed; his backside, his back, his arms, his hair, everywhere, until-

'I'm ready,' she managed to choke out, pushing her head as far out as she could with it remaining pressed on the bed, 'I'm ready.' If there was ever anything she knew in her life, it was that she was ready, her body was screaming that much.

'All right,' he stopped everything he was doing, 'Look at me Grace.' It took another second, but she finally opened her eyes to look him in the eyes.

'This part will hurt,' he told her in the most caring tone, 'no matter how it's done. But I love you all right Abigail?' She nodded, eyes wide in wonder and want.

'I love you and I will make it as pain free as I can manage. I could easily distract you by doing something else so that you don't notice I'm entering, but I'm selfish in wanting you to feel me. Do you understand what I'm saying to you?' Again, she nodded, it was all she could do. It was kind of him to care so much that he didn't hurt her, too lovely in fact. Her heart felt like it was melting.

He smiled the warmest smile she ever saw, 'All right then,' he brought one hand up between them, 'I want you to take my hand. When it hurts too much, you squeeze it all right? And I will slow down.' Abbie placed one of her hands into his, he laced their fingers together. For that tiny second that he did that, Abbie felt something in her break, it was as though a wall had been there and it was no longer there, she had no other way of explaining it. All she knew was that something big had changed. She looked deep into his eyes and knew that she was no longer the same person she came into his room as.

'And I will talk to you,' he continued (after he'd placed a lingering kiss on the back of her hand), 'so that you don't concentrate all your thoughts on what's happening. Are you ready my darling?'

'I'm ready,' she said after a deep breath. All thoughts of saving his life long forgotten, Abbie gave herself over to the feeling that was bubbling inside her. The warm feeling that felt like gentle sunshine and the first drops of rain after a drought. There wasn't a single obligation she felt anymore, all she felt was nothing, at the same time, she felt wonderful, she felt everything, the entire world. Once more, his free hand returned to the place on her that ached the most; his fingers rubbed, circled, and softly pulled there until apparently he was satisfied.

'Here I am,' he said in a stifled tone, 'Keep your eyes open and on me Grace'. At first she only felt him shift his position a little, then she felt something pushing through an entrance on her that was definitely closed, but opening up to accommodate it. She hissed in slight pain at the first contact, 'Ah,' she moaned shortly, unable to fight closing her eyes.

'Abbie,' Ichabod croaked, 'look at me, don't close your eyes. I need you to look at me.' With much effort, she opened her eyes, and tears spilled out.

'Should I stop my dearest, is the pain too much for you?' he searched the depths of her eyes for an answer.

She shook her head, and he smiled down at her. 'You know,' he began, 'I've never been this close to anyone before.'

Abbie felt him slowly push deeper inside her, and despite the discomfort, she felt him slide inside as though he was being helped along by something. And it felt painfully good.

'This is your first time too?' she asked in surprise, temporarily forgetting that she was feeling discomfort.

'No,' he said, penetrated deeper (causing her to gasp once he was nearly fully inside), 'I mean, I've never shared myself with anyone the way I am with you. I feel complete and whole with you, because I love you and we're connected this way...' One last time, he pushed himself into her, completing his journey, 'I'm here,' he let her know in a breathy tone, 'Does it still hurt? Because you are extremely tight. You are a tiny person my darling.'

'A little,' she confessed, 'but it feels good more.' She never imagined it felt like that, so perfect, so fitting. To think she had been unwilling to do this with him.

'It'll feel even better,' he promised.

Better was an understatement. It didn't feel better, well maybe better than best, but better was definitely not how it felt as he pushed into her, pulling out as soon as he was inside. He pressed slowly, allowing her to feel the absolute painful pleasure of sexual love. The thing about the pain though, was that it was the sort that one wanted more of, not the horrific sort that had one screaming in agony. Her soft pants and moans egged him on to continue at the pace he was going, until he couldn't take much more of the slow pace, just as she was beginning to feel that she would explode if he didn't move faster.

'Please...' she choked, her back lifting itself off the bed.

'Most certainly,' he replied. Immediately he began moving faster and faster, sending her to a world she didn't know existed, until now. A pleasure like nothing she had ever known took over her moments after. She was left speechless, as her inside danced around in pleasure, her entire body succumbing to absolute sensations she couldn't think to describe. He stopped thrusting in and out of her a little after she exploded, pulled out and fell beside her.

'In all my life...' he said with a huge sigh, bringing both his hands onto his chest. Abbie was stunned, completely unable to move, the only movement she could manage was turning her head to look at him. He was breathing deeply with his eyes closed and a lazy smile on his face. She stared deeply at him, trying to comprehend how it was that he could make her feel that way.

'Abigail?' he called without changing his position, only doing as she did, turning his head to face her. Their eyes met, and in that exact moment, Abbie knew she'd been wrong about how it felt to love someone. His smiling face opened the world of love to her. It wasn't only then, it was a little before they joined their bodies, but looking at his smiling face, highlighted that world for her.

'Thank you,' she whispered with tears in her eyes.

Ichabod shook his head lightly, moving one of his hands to feather her cheek, 'No. Thank you Abbie, thank you for sharing yourself with me, it is the greatest gift.'

She remained silent to think for a moment. Her body hadn't still fully recovered from the after-effects. She wanted right there and then to narrate to him the truth, that he'd been the victim of Miss Katrina's witchcraft, and that she initially only wanted to be together with him because it was the only way to save him. It seemed so fitting to confess in such a blissful moment, where nothing could go wrong, yet, she couldn't open her mouth to confess. Instead, she said, 'I don't want you to leave again.'

'Neither do I want to leave you,' he whispered, and she realised that he was beginning to fall asleep. Smiling, she closed her eyes too, but not before tucking herself into his side. He turned on his side and tucked her deeper into him, 'For now, sleep with me Abbie my darling.'

She may have engaged in their coming together for one purpose, but she got something entirely different from it. She prevented his death, but more important than that, she found life in him, with him. Sleep took over her immediately.

* * *

><p>Abbie awoke securely in Ichabod's arms, his light breathing acting as a feather on the skin of her neck. A smile began from her inside to the outside, there had never been a time in her life that she felt elation such as she felt now. Jenny had been right, there was nothing that compared to waking up in the arms someone. It was a feeling that couldn't be described, not by words alone, there simply weren't enough words to describe it. Abbie had always enjoyed being held by Ichabod, but their joining heightened everything. She felt more alive than she'd ever in her life; there was a little part of that felt the betrayer for initially deceiving him to be with her, but it was drowned by the immense happiness she felt. Long before they came together, she realised that she loved him, from that moment of realisation, it wasn't about saving him anymore. It became about her love for him, in so little time, things changed completely. There was so much to be happy for; she loved him, actually loved him, and he was going to live after all.<p>

Gently, so that she didn't wake him, she removed his arms from around her, and climbed out of bed. It wasn't easy to leave the warmth and safety of his arms, but she had to. For a little while, after she climbed out of bed, she stood on the side of the bed just to stare at him. He looked so peaceful, as though there was nothing in the world that could rattle him. Abbie liked seeing him that way, it was a relief from the previous days of agony that he'd been through. She never told him just how much his condition took from her and made her worry, because she didn't want to worsen his condition. Looking at him now released a heavy load from her life, she didn't have to live with the burden of his possible death anymore, he (and consequently she as well) was free from it all. Spurred by something inside her, she bent down and placed a kiss on his forehead, it was to thank him for loving her. She placed another one on his cheek, and that was to communicate that she loved him. One final time, she kissed him on the lips simply because she could, and she wanted to. Reluctantly, she turned away from him to get dressed. As she found her undergarment and pulled it on, she couldn't stop herself from recalling the moment he pulled it off and what came next. Her ears burned hot at the memory, while her stomach seemed to flip inside her, both were welcome reactions. She never imagined in her life that the act of coming together could be so extremely physical, yet completely not physical at all, there was a spirituality to it that went deeper than what was felt physically. The things she'd felt were very physical and well pleasing, but more than that, she felt more in her heart. When she'd fixed her hair properly (her dress neatly on her body once again) and folded his clothes into a neat pile atop the drawers, she took a single moment to look at sleeping Ichabod. Though she wanted more than anything to finally say the words he'd been saying to her for days, she couldn't bring herself to utter them, not while he was asleep. She would wait until she was looking into his eyes, and preferably tightly in his arms to say that she loved him as well. For now, she had to go find something productive to do, because apparently she'd slept more hours than she realised. It was starting to get dark outside, the sun had no doubt already set. After a silent fight within herself, she hurried out of his room before she could change her mind. She would return again to bring him dinner in the evening. It was a good thing that everyone left her to tend to him, they all knew what he meant to her. If it hadn't been so, she would never have been able to save his life as well as find herself in him.

Abbie went straight to her sister's room, in the hope that she would find her sister there so they could talk. It was lucky that she found Jenny atop her bed reading a book. Jenny wasn't a reader, nor was she ever at home at such an hour, it struck Abbie as strange, but she said nothing.

'How is he doing?' Jenny asked upon hearing the door closing. She placed the book on the bed, sitting up. Abbie came to sit close to her.

'He's asleep. But I know he'll be fine.' There was a certainty within her that told her that he would be fine.

'Grandpa's praying non-stop for him,' her sister said.

'I know,' she did know; everyone was going out of their way to support her, even though they knew nothing about Ichabod, 'You have all been really wonderful. Sometimes, I think I don't deserve it.' As much as she tried to not let it affect her, her feelings of guilt and undeserving of anything sometimes surfaced to bring her down. No one knew the conflict that went on inside her, she kept that part to herself.

'Of course you deserve it,' Jenny shoulder-bumped her. 'I know that spending time with you is good for him, I noticed how much better he looked yesterday.' Jenny also spent some time with Ichabod when Abbie had something to do, for the reason that he wouldn't ever feel left out. Abbie appreciated her sister's care more than she said.

'It's good for me too.' It was good to spend much of her day with him, she wished the war would end and they wouldn't be apart so much anymore. When silence arose between them, Jenny took the opportunity to pull her sister into a small side hug.

'Hey,' she withdrew her arm, 'did you hear? The war is finally coming to an end.'

'Really?'

Jenny shrugged, 'Arthur told me, and you know how he's always right about everything. It's like he's psychic or something.'

It made Abbie the slightest bit sad that Ichabod couldn't be there fighting in the war as he'd always wanted to do, 'Ichabod should've been there.' On the other hand, if the war was ending, it meant that Ichabod wouldn't be away at all, that she would get to see him more often. In fact, they could get married and live together. The idea of marriage didn't frighten her anymore.

'I'm sure he doesn't mind being here with you,' Jenny tried to comfort her, 'besides, it's witch Katrina you should be angry with, not sad for things you can't change.'

She had been angry with Miss Katrina, but after getting the solution to healing Ichabod, she didn't have the time to be angry with anyone. She still didn't want anything to do with her though.

'She told me how to save his life.'

That interested Jenny, who scooted closer, 'How?' Abbie shrugged, not wanting to talk about the actual how. She wanted to tell her sister what happened, it was just, she didn't want to talk about it, 'It's done. It's not important.' It was important, probably the most important thing to have happened in her life in the longest time; she only said it to get her sister to not ask for more information.

Jenny stared at her sister carefully, after a while she asked, 'You didn't sacrifice your life for him did you?'

Abbie made her alarmed face, 'What? No.'

'It's typical with witchcraft.'

Abbie let out a small laugh, 'I didn't.'

'Then what did you do?' Although Jenny tried to keep the fear out of her voice, Abbie could clearly tell that her sister was more afraid that she'd done something reckless.

'You know...' Abbie said quietly, avoiding her sister's eye. She heard Jenny gasp after a moment; her sister was good at picking up things that weren't actually said, 'Abbie!'

'You know,' Abbie began to say, a need to share overtook her, 'I always thought romantic love was this extraordinary sensation that you felt in your body all the time...' she looked at her sister, a nostalgic smile on her face, 'but there was this moment...he held my hand, and I just knew, I was certain that I loved him. It was nothing like I used to think about love. After that moment, everything changed for me...I guess I always loved him, I just didn't know it. That moment opened up the truth to me. I know you think I should've waited, but Jenny nothing has ever felt so right in my life. I mean, I loved it, but what I got from it...I can't explain. It wasn't just physical.'

'Aww,' Jenny whined sweetly, 'my big sister is in love.' Abbie earned another, tighter hug from her sister.

'I do love him Jenny,' she said in all honesty. The confession swelled up her heart.

Jenny starting lightly rocking her sister in the hug, 'I'm really happy for you. He loves you a lot.'

'He's wonderful. My life would be nothing without him. I've only known him a short time, and we barely were together all that time, but I can't live without him. I used to think at some point it would pass. Now I know it won't because I really love him.' Deep inside her, she'd always expected that something would happen to separate them, she had always been subconsciously uncertain of the firmness of their relationship. Those were gone from her head now.

Jenny pulls back from their hug, turning Abbie to fully face her, 'So you know I'm going to ask right? I have to know,' Jenny wiggled her eyebrows, a sly grin on her face.

Abbie fell back on the bed in giggles. She told her sister all she wanted to know, some parts burning her face without fail for recalling them. She didn't tell Jenny every detail there was, but she knew that her sister clearly understood what she was saying. They spoke for the remaining hour about Abbie's love. At one point Jenny asked if Abbie would consider leaving for England with him if he asked. Her immediate answer was yes, she didn't need to think about being with him, wherever he chose to go, she would instantly go with him.

Much later, she prepared dinner for her family in the cottage. They all caught on that she was in a better mood than she'd been in days. Omitting the important parts, she told her grandparents that she knew Ichabod would be fine after all. Her grandmother took the opportunity to talk about forgiveness to Abbie.

'If he's getting better, don't you think you should consider forgiving Miss Katrina?' Abbie looked at Jenny, then her grandfather, and finally at her grandmother. The truth was, Miss Katrina wasn't a part of her life anymore, she wasn't giving a single thought about her anymore. There was nothing to forgive.

'Grandma,' Jenny started, 'do you mean Abbie could hold a grudge if Ichabod didn't get better?'

'No Jennifer, grudges are the worst kind of sickness there is. I'm bringing it up now, because Abigail is in a better spirit.'

'Grandma, I don't hate her,' Abbie protested, 'and I'm not holding a grudge. Can I please take Ichabod dinner? He must be awake by now.'

Her grandmother looked ready to argue, but her grandfather gave her a small nod, 'Go,' he said, 'see you in the morning.'

She silently thanked her grandfather with a small smile, 'Goodnight everyone. I'll see you in the morning.' Her grandparents as well as Mr. Fredericks trusted her enough to let her spend her nights in Ichabod's room, watching over him, though it was only because they trusted that nothing improper would happen between the two. Her grandparents specifically stressed the importance of staying away from sexual relations before marriage. She wasn't ever going to tell them what she did for him to get better.

They bade her a final goodbye, Jenny walking back with her to the Manor in perfect silence, only speaking once they'd reached her room.

'Abbie, you guys better behave all right? Don't spend all night doing only you know what.'

'Jenny stop!' she laughed. The thought of being intimate with him again hadn't crossed her mind, but now that Jenny mentioned it...

'You're thinking about it aren't you? You're turning into mini me.'

'I'm older than you Jenny.'

'But I'm taller, and a little less smaller.' Abbie began pushing her sister into her room, 'Goodnight Jenny.'

With her tray of food, she made it to the last floor, to Ichabod's room. She expected a lamp to be burning when she entered, she only met darkness. Adjusting her eyes to the dark, she walked over to the cabinet of drawers, placing the tray carefully atop it and going around the room to produce some light.

He was still fast asleep, looking like he hadn't moved since she left him. She thought to wake him, in fact, she did try several times to get him to awaken without result. In the end, discouraged by no response from him, she climbed into bed, tucked herself into him for sleep.

* * *

><p>In the morning, before the sun rose, she woke up from a lovely dream. Everything had been perfect in the dream, the feeling from it came with her to the real world. She lifted herself from the bed, her senses returning to her. As all the other days, she was snuggled into Ichabod.<p>

'Ichabod?' she called for him softly. It was barely light outside, which meant the room was not as lighted as she would've preferred. He didn't rouse or answer her. She tried again, and again, and again, but with no results. By now, she was getting worried. He'd slept all through the afternoon yesterday, all through the night as well, he couldn't still be sleepy after all that time of sleep. Panic began to flood through her. It was the tenth day, the day that would determine whether he lived or died, if he didn't awaken by the time the sun was rising, she would go see Mr. Fredericks.

She did go see Mr. Fredericks, because Ichabod didn't wake. She went to his study in a frantic hurry, she needed something done as soon as possible.

'Mr. Fredericks,' she burst in through the door, forgetting to greet him for the morning, 'Something's wrong with Ichabod.'

He stood up from his desk to meet her, concern for her developing on his face, 'What has happened to him?'

'I'm worried about him, something's wrong.'

'Because it's the tenth day today?' he asked in recognition.

'That too,' she shook her head, 'but he hasn't woken up yet.'

'That's hardly a reason to be alarmed,' Mr. Fredericks looked out in the direction of the window, 'the day hasn't broken yet.'

'He fell asleep yesterday. Early in the afternoon.' She had to make him understand why she was worried.

Mr. Fredericks frowned, 'Yesterday you say? I can't think of why he wouldn't be awake until now.'

'Me neither. I did everything Miss Katrina said...I don't understand what's happening. What's happening to Ichabod?' Only bad thoughts were coming to her, her mind was automatically assuming the worst.

'You spoke to Katrina?' he asked in alarm, as though it was the worst thing she could've done. Abbie nodded for his answer, she didn't understand his reaction.

'What did she tell you to do?' He stepped closer to Abbie.

'What you didn't want to tell me,' she said quietly. It wasn't that she resented him for it, it was that had he told her, Ichabod would've healed sooner, and she wouldn't be in this panic.

'She did what?' he asked, barely managing to keep from shouting.

'I'm worried Mr. Fredericks,' Abbie continued to say, ignoring his question, 'Why isn't he awake yet? What if it didn't work?' He took her by the shoulders, 'Abbie! What have you done?! Do you have any idea of what you've done?'

'I was saving his life,' she explained, 'it was the only way.'

'By putting your life in danger?' he let go of her shoulders, walking around to his desk, 'You shouldn't have done such a thing Abbie. There's nothing I can do for you know, not when you've done the one thing I never wanted you to know about. You should've spoken to me first.' He sunk into his chair, extreme worry written all over his face. Abbie didn't understand why he was making it into something big when it had all been done to save Ichabod's life.

'It was between him and me,' she tried not to sound offended. She, like anybody else deserved privacy, as well as the right to make her own decisions.

'No Abigail,' he ran his hands across his face, his head shaking in disagreement, 'No. It was between a lot of higher powers. You may think it was your choice to make, and it was, but there was so much more to it than Katrina told you. You've endangered both your lives.'

'But Miss Katrina said it was the only way to save him. I did it to save him,' she pleaded, confused by what Mr. Fredericks was telling her and what Miss Katrina had told her, 'she said it would work.'

'Katrina failed to tell you that it has never worked in all history. No two souls have ever survived being joined together.' He stood up again, but didn't leave his place behind the desk. Sighing deeply, he continued to speak, 'Joining souls in that manner doesn't only involve two souls, it's a complicated process that requires more than just reciting a few words.'

Now she really didn't understand. She never recited words with Ichabod. Was that why he wasn't awake, did that mean their coming together didn't do what it was supposed to. And why had Miss Katrina kept that part away from her?

'I don't understand,' she told him.

'I didn't want you to know, because it's the single most dangerous tampering with human life there is. We can't have any way of knowing what threads hold his soul together, nor yours Abbie, and if combined, what they could destroy. Abigail,' he sighed in defeat, 'each soul is different; there are components that thread a soul together. A soul is made up of different particles in each individual. Those particles keep the soul alive, if for any reason those particles are disconnected, then death follows. It's very rare that two individuals have extremely similar soul particles that can be joined without the danger of destroying each other. Of course, the particles are the same in everyone, but the way in which they are threaded together is like that of no other person. Think of it as a thumbprint. Just as everything in life, opposite patterns, when joined, could cause something spectacular or something wholly catastrophic. Katrina shouldn't have performed the ritual, she's aware of the consequences. No one has ever survived Soul Binding.'

'I don't understand what you're talking about Mr. Fredericks, there was no ritual. Should there have been a ritual? Was Miss Katrina supposed to be there?' His face changed completely, now he was the one who didn't understand.

'You said Katrina told you how to save him.'

'She did. But we didn't have a ritual.' Now she understood why it didn't work. She understood that being intimate with another human being was seen as soul binding in the spiritual world, and that they had joined themselves in the highest way possible, but she didn't understand exactly why Mr. Fredericks said it was dangerous. What could be dangerous about sharing herself with Ichabod?

'You are telling me, that you had a Soul Binding without the help of any warlock or witch?' he asked to be certain they were together.

'All we had to do was consummate our love,' she said with a frown. Her words hit the man before her back, he couldn't believe his ears.

'You did what?'

Abbie winced at his expression, he didn't look pleased. Although she didn't get why, he'd already complained about the wrongness of her actions. Or could it be that hearing her say the words from her mouth made it much worse to digest? She didn't answer him, for fear of him yelling at her.

'Oh Abigail,' he said quietly, 'that was the worst thing you could've done.'

'Is there anything that I could've done that wouldn't have been the worst?' she asked in confusion and fear. Nothing made sense.

'Sit down Abigail, I need to explain all this to you.' Despite not wanting to sit, she took a seat. She thought in sitting she would be delaying the time to help Ichabod.

'Love,' he took a seat himself, 'is a magic on its own, it doesn't need extra agents of magic to help it. Love on its own can revoke death. When something such as a love potion is added, every solution to reversing the effects becomes dangerous and less of a solution. Because the love potion has tampered with the truth, having convinced and clouded the heart to believe lies, undoing all that would require only the purest of actions. Consummation is one of them, and so is Soul Binding, but both have to be carried out only with the purest intentions. Soul Binding is more complicated as I said, but it's founded on purity as well. You said you were with Ichabod to save his life?'

Again, she only nodded.

'That's where you went wrong. Even desire for him wouldn't have been pure. Pure means without ulterior motives. Wanting to save his life is selfish, for you as well as for him. Desire for another human being has never been a purity, it's always been selfish, designed to please the flesh of humans. All you needed was love. Love, true love is pure, and that's why it's magic.'

At his words, she remembered Miss Katrina asking her if she and Ichabod loved each other, apparently that had been her place to ask what that had to do with anything. Abbie kicked herself for not asking for more clarity on the matter, had she done that, she wouldn't have caused this.

'I love him,' she said more to herself than him. It was the only way she could get rid of the evil thoughts that were beginning to creep into her head. Her intentions hadn't been those urged by love.

'But you primarily thought of saving him rather than that you loved him?' he asked. She got the feeling that he wasn't expecting answer, and she didn't give him one. What would she say, that she had been unwilling to be intimate with him in the first place? Because that would be like burying the man she loved.

In a small voice, she asked, 'What does it mean Mr. Fredericks, is he going to die? What did I do to him?'

'It wasn't you,' he shook his head, 'You didn't do anything to him.'

'I only wanted to save him,' she started to cry suddenly. Tears that had been building up started flowing from her eyes.

'It's like I said Abbie,' he walked around his desk to comfort her, placing both his hands on her shoulders, 'every solution becomes dangerous. A love potion being a dark magic, it automatically threatens everything that is done to prevent more damage. Listen to me Abbie, love is life, and absence of life is death. Consummation for reasons other than purity goes against the powers of love, that's why it has negative consequences.'

'He's not going to die,' she shook her head in denial. He wasn't going to die, he couldn't die. Not because of what she did. No matter what Mr. Fredericks said, she was the one whose intentions hadn't been pure, meaning that she was the one who would be responsible for his death.

'You can't be certain of that. He hasn't awoken since he slept. You have to prepare yourself for the worst.'

'No,' she said firmly, even though her throat was constricted and tears were gushing out of her eyes.

'I rather think that was the plan of Katrina. She knew consummation without purity would end it all. Perhaps she thought that if she couldn't have him, you couldn't either.' Abbie failed to hear the anger in Mr. Fredericks' voice, as she was too worried about what she'd done to the man she loved.

'I can't be the one who kills him Mr. Fredericks. I need him to live, if he dies, I'll die too. Please Mr. Fredericks, there has to be something that you can do.'

'There's nothing,' he told her sadly, 'Time has run out. After sunset today, we will know his fate.'

Abbie had enough, she couldn't listen to any more of what he was saying, because in her head were thoughts of Ichabod dying before her eyes. The images tormented her. Abruptly, she pushed her chair out and ran out from the study.

* * *

><p>She ran and ran, she ran a long way away from the mess she created.<p>

It couldn't be, it wasn't possible that every man that loved her was destined to die. What was it about her that couldn't allow men to live once they were a part of her life? Was she cursed? Had she been a cruel person at some point in her life and couldn't remember it? What had she done wrong that she couldn't be happy in her life, and most importantly, why was it that other people, people that loved her, were the ones that suffered the consequences for punishment that was meant for her?

Eventually, when she stopped running, she found herself in an area she hadn't been to in the longest time. It was an old house that had been destroyed by a storm years back. Long before she left the Manor for her own life, her freedom, she used to come to the place with Jenny. They would sit and imagine rebuilding the house and living in there with their parents. An entire family died in there, and no one ever thought to rebuild and settle in, she and Jenny always hoped they would be the ones who would do that in the future. The house was just ruins now, hardly resembling a house, but it had a few spots good for hide and seek. Abbie hid herself in one corner, not caring that she was sitting on hard stones; she was too distressed.

Nothing made sense, absolutely nothing about her life made sense. Why had she been marked out for misery? She knew Ichabod for a such a short time, a short time that had been filled with so much anguish and sadness for the both of them, and just when things were looking up for them, when they mutually agreed to being together, she wasn't allowed the luxury of his love. Why was it that she wasn't allowed to enjoy the love of a man, much more, a man that she loved as well? She pondered over all those thoughts, all the while shedding tears from her eyes. All her fears were finally coming true, she was losing Ichabod. She'd thought of losing him before, but the reality was so much different, she wasn't in the least prepared for it. It hurt uncontrollably, knowing that as soon as the day was over, she would lose him forever. She wanted to die herself; she meant the words she said to Mr. Fredericks, if Ichabod died, she would die too. Even if she didn't die physically, she would never be alive again, because he was her life. Too late, far too late, she realised what he was to her, and what her feelings for him were. If she continued to live while he died, she would forever live with the regret of his death, of doing something that killed him. She should've known better, she shouldn't have listened to a woman who'd given Ichabod a love potion in the first place. Her responsibility had been to look after Ichabod, to give him the attention he needed, to nurse him back to health with her care, but she failed. She allowed the evil intentions of one woman to rule her, she allowed her own desperate desires to control her to doing something she wasn't supposed to do. If only she could push the blame onto Miss Katrina, if she even had strength and will to hate her, then maybe she wouldn't be on the verge of hating herself. The truth was, it was all her fault. Had Ichabod never met her, he wouldn't have known her, or fallen to love her. Had they never met, he would've met Miss Katrina at a more different time, and they would've been happy probably; none of the cruelties he'd gone through would've happened to him. It was all her fault.

She accepted that it was all her fault, she was the root of all that was happening to him, all that was about to happen. The care she nursed him with, the joy her presence brought him over the past two days was all lost. The progress he'd made just by spending time with her was counting for nothing now, it meant nothing anymore. She'd slowly delivered him from the physical ailments in the night, but for what, for death?

Time passed, the sun moved along in the sky, with her still in the ruins thinking thoughts that refused to leave her. She wasn't crying anymore, her tears had run out a while back, but her heart continued to ache. Only when she realised that the sun was beginning to set, she scrambled off the floor and set off for the Manor. She'd made a mistake in leaving the Manor, she should've stayed by his side, doing anything it was that she could to help him. It wasn't right that she was hiding away in some old ruins when she had to be with him. The right thing to do was to apologise and say her goodbye to the love of her life. He couldn't die without knowing that she loved him. at least she owed him that.

* * *

><p>It was dusk when she arrived back at the Manor. She was in a full panic, Mr. Fredericks had clearly said that after sunset, they would know Ichabod's fate, whether he would live or die. It was just the laws of magic, he told her, magic had its own clock and everything that was magic, good or bad, fell under the dominion of that clock. Things either happened that way or they didn't happen at all. That was how Abbie was certain that when she walked into Ichabod's room, his fate would be determined already. The sun had already set, she had to be too late. Being late didn't stop her, whether or not she missed her chance to say goodbye to him, she wouldn't not go see him, it was only right that she did. She went about rushing through the house, climbing stairs as one who had much to lose if she didn't make it on time. There was no time to stop outside his door, to prepare herself for the tragedy that she knew was awaiting her inside his room. She didn't make time to gather herself so as not to fall apart once she was inside the room, looking at his handsome face that would never again be alive, whose eyes would never open again. Instead, she forcefully closed her hands around the knob, turned and pushed the door inwards to enter.<p>

Instantly, she froze.

It was a dream. She was dreaming, because he wasn't sleeping. Ichabod, her Ichabod was sitting up in bed, his upper body exposed. It wasn't real, Abbie knew it couldn't be real that he was sitting up like that. It was dark, but light enough in the room to make out that it was Ichabod, her Ichabod in bed, sitting up, looking like he'd been up in that position a long time. Abbie couldn't move if she tried, something was keeping her stock-still in place. She wanted to turn on a lamp, move closer to the bed, to examine if her eyes were betraying her, but she couldn't move, for all that she was, she couldn't move.

'Abbie?' It was his voice, hoarse and quiet, but it was his voice, he was calling her name.

'Abbie I can see it's you,' he said. It was that she couldn't bring herself to believe that it was real that he was awake, that he wasn't dead, it had to be her mind playing tricks on her. Or maybe she was asleep and dreaming. Or, hallucinating, seeing things that she wanted to see, because her soul was crushed and dead. He couldn't be real, he had to be a dream.

'Grace?' he called again, a little louder this time, 'Why is it that you stand there? Come in, and would you turn on any sort of light my dealing?' The way he said 'my darling' sounded so real, so like the many times he'd said it to her in the past.

'Ich- Ichabod?' she sobbed out. What if she wasn't dreaming? Would it be so bad to imagine that he didn't die when the sun set?

'It's me, Abbie. Why do you stand there? Is something the matter with you? Come closer and tell me.'

She could be dreaming, she thought, or he could be awake and really talking to her; whichever it was, she had nothing to lose, dream-created Ichabod was better than dead Ichabod. If she could have even a moment with dream-created Ichabod, she would take it all. Her feet carried her across the room to his bed. In the dim dusk light pouring in through the window, she could make out his hand outstretched for her to take. She was reluctant to take it, at the same time eager to, in the end, her bleeding heart, the one that wanted to be with him as much as possible, won. She placed her hand in his. His hand was cold, not the same warm hand she always knew it to be; her heart sank for it, it was only confirmation that he wasn't real.

'Your hand is cold Grace, is there something amiss with you?' he asked in concern. That couldn't be right, she thought, she wasn't the one with cold hands, he was the one whose hand- her thoughts trailed off as he linked their fingers. Her hand was much smaller, but their hands seemed to fit perfectly together, it was as though he was threading their very lives together. It felt welcome, homey even, and completely familiar. It reminded her of something, the very first time he did that and she felt something inside her come to life.

I love you, was the first thing she thought to say to him. It didn't matter if he was real or not, she loved him, and she wanted him to know it. No words came from her mouth though, she couldn't say anything, only deep sobs came from her.

'You're crying,' he said, tugging on her hand to bring her closer. She let herself be pulled by him onto the bed. She wasn't aware that she was crying, she had no way of knowing anything except him. He didn't leave her simply to sit on the bed; using his free arm, he guided her to sit on his thighs. On instinct, she drew her free arm around his body, burying her head into his chest, all the while refusing to let go of his linked hand. Like that, she could inhale his scent, she could feel his body and the warmth coming from it. It felt real to her, he felt real, completely alive.

'Why are you crying Grace?' His question, acted as petrol on flames, her body began shaking with the sobs she was producing. He felt so real, he sounded so real, she wished he were real as well.

'Grace please,' he used a free hand to stroke her back, providing comfort to her in the little way he could, 'tell me what the matter is. I want to help you.'

He couldn't know that there was no way he could help her, that the only help he could give her in fact, was remaining with her as long as it was possible.

'I'm sorry I never told you that I love you,' she said through sobs, 'I should've told you, but I never did.' She was convinced he was an illusion created by her heart. But, even if he was, she had to tell him that she loved him, she had to look into in his eyes and tell him the truth. She did just that, even though the light was diminishing, she looked into his eyes as best as she could and said, 'I love you Ichabod.' The rest, everything else that happened to him, wasn't her concern, she was only interested in telling him that she loved him, it was the most important thing. She'd made the mistake of never telling him when he was able to hear her, she couldn't leave it until later, because there would be no later.

Ichabod, pulling her head to his chest to rest his cheek upon her head, said, 'I know. I know you love me Abigail.' If ever there was confirmation that she was dreaming, it was his reply. Ichabod never knew that she loved him, because she never said it to him, for most of their time together, she had been uncertain of her feelings for him, whether they were love or something else. She wanted to cry harder, all the evidence was there that the Ichabod who was holding her, wasn't real.

'I never told you,' she said, trying hard to find a reason for him to be real. If he gave her a reason for answering her the way he did, and if the reason was valid, she would begin doubting that he wasn't real.

His voice was soft when he replied, 'But I always knew...it was always in your eyes. You couldn't hide that from me as you did to yourself, I could always see it.'

It wasn't what she was expecting to hear, nor did she think she'd done that in actual fact, it was only the calm conviction of his voice that forced her to believe he had a point. It made sense what he said. Since he confessed his love for her, she tried to shield herself from loving him in case something like what happened to Thomas happened to him. After Thomas, a cloud of guilt mingled with the feeling of being punished hung over her. She never consciously chose to bar feelings for him from surfacing, but now she knew that she had done just that, she'd allowed herself to believe a lie.

'But I should've said it,' she stressed, her sobs dying away, 'You told me so many times that you loved me, I should've done the same.'

Ichabod pulled her head from his chest in what Abbie could guess meant that he wanted to look her in the eyes, the hand that was on her back coming to cup her face, 'It's not important anymore Abbie. You are saying it now, that is all that matters. Even if you didn't say it, I would still love you my darling, nothing will change that.' She could barely make out his face, the darkness was beginning to surround them deeply, yet there was something in his words that outlined his facial features for her, she could tell that he wore a soft loving look on his face, it rendered her speechless.

'Least of all,' he continued to say from where he left off, 'when I have discovered the heaven of being joined with you. I shall never be able to let you go now.' Gently, he kissed her cheek lingeringly; the kiss was warm and real, leaning into it, to bring them that much closer and to prolong the contact was all she thought to do.

'You feel so real,' she whispered to herself more than she said to him.

Apparently, he heard, for he answered her, 'I am real. I am real, and I am here, with you my darling.'

'But you died,' she reasoned, again she said it to herself. If she created him, it was only fitting that she made up his words as well. The odd thing was, she didn't have proof that he died. The words of Mr. Fredericks were what she had to go by.

'I did no such thing,' he said to her, catching her off guard by immediately following his words with another kiss on her lips, 'I did no such thing as die,' he said against her lips. Abbie wanted more than anything to believe his words, she wanted to get lost in the magic that was his touch and kisses that felt real, but she couldn't allow herself to dare to hope, it would be the worst thing. While she struggled within herself, a pair of footsteps, followed by another sounded in the room. She vaguely heard them move about, and a voice whispering something about lighting the room, but she kept all her attention on being with him. To block all of it out, she leaned her head deep in his chest once again.

After a moment of silence from both of them, Abbie heard a clear voice say her name.

'Abbie?' She recognised it as the voice of Jenny. Startled, she spun away from the comfort of Ichabod's chest. Light that hadn't been there before met her eyes, she squinted for better sight.

'Jenny? What are you doing here?'

'We didn't know where you were...and since the sun set, we wanted to know what happened...if you know...' she trailed off leaving Abbie to figure out the rest. With the new light in the room, Abbie couldn't help looking back at Ichabod. She still felt him around her, and their hands were still joined, she wondered about that.

'Ichabod?' His face was right there before her eyes, his eyes the same as they'd always been, a little smile on his face.

'I'm still here,' he said. Abbie looked back at Jenny, and only then she noticed that Mr. Fredericks was with her, holding a big lamp in his hands. She wanted to know if they could see Ichabod too, or if she was dreaming like she suspected all along.

'Jenny? Mr. Fredericks? Can you see Ichabod?' There was every chance that he was a dream, and she should be worried that she was seeing things, but she wasn't worried of what they would think of her, if indeed she was crazy, she had to know the truth.

'Well,' Jenny said with a barely visible smirk, 'we can see what little of him you aren't covering.'

'And it seems,' Mr. Fredericks said looking at Jenny, 'we have come at a bad time. Come with me Jennifer, your sister will find you later.' Wasting no time, Mr. Fredericks went to place the lamp on the nearest flat surface, and then continued to pull Jenny with him out of the room, making sure to pull the door closed behind them. As soon as the door was shut, Abbie turned to Ichabod in a frightened sort of relief.

'You're real,' she said simply, her eyes shedding silent tears that she didn't notice. She was won over by thoughts that told her Ichabod was real.

'I'm real,' he answered. His answer was all she needed. She didn't doubt it anymore, she didn't doubt his existence. She felt sure that he didn't die; whatever happened so that he didn't die, she would only think about later. But for now, she wanted to cling to him as hard as she could, to strangle him into her with her arms around his neck, his whole body to make up for the way her soul had died.


	17. Chapter 17

**I neglected to say that the previous chapter wasn't the end, for a reason I won't mention. The last chapter didn't have all the answers and wasn't a good place to end. I just got soooooo tired of going through that chapter and keeping it in my computer that I couldn't help it post it. But to be clear, THIS IS definitely the final chapter. Compared to the previous chapter, this is totally short (so YAY for you!) and it's not much, I just prefer ending with this.**

Holding as fast as she could to him, she thought about it. He wasn't dead, he didn't die after all. Mr. Fredericks had been wrong, the part that she played so that he could live did work to save his life. She would talk to Mr. Fredericks later to find out what could've happened to change the laws of magic, but for now, she just needed to be close to Ichabod the way she was.

'There is something I have to tell you Abbie,' he said to her. They'd been holding each other in silence, each lost in their own thoughts for a while. Ichabod decided it was time to share his thoughts with her.

Whatever it was, she thought, it couldn't be bad, not since he wasn't dead. 'Is it bad?' she knew it couldn't be, yet she had to ask.

'Remember once I told you of the dream I had?' he started, keeping his hold still as tightly around her, 'I omitted a part.' She remembered that dream, it was the one where he took her to England as his wife, and his family welcomed the both of them with open arms.

'Which part is that?' she wanted to know.

After a great sigh, he started speaking again, 'I also dreamt of Katrina that night...it was after I fell on the battlefield that I saw her over me, in a completely different setting, weeping. I never understood it, but in all honesty, it did frighten me, even though I tried to give it no thought.'

'Did you dream of her again?' Abbie didn't want to tell him about what the woman had done to him, this was their moment, she didn't want to ruin it with evils.

'I did,' he replied and then he fell silent. Abbie couldn't decide what to make of his silence, she pulled her face back from him, to look at his face.

Although she managed to not let her fear show, she couldn't stop her heart beating wildly, she only hoped he couldn't feel it against him, 'What happened?' Ichabod offered her a gentle smile, then sighed heavily, a tell sign that he didn't like what he was about to say.

'I was dying,' he began, 'I knew I was dying, because I felt it in my body. Katrina was the one charged with looking after me. But, there was something extremely wrong with the entire situation, I felt that. It was as though Katrina was the one who slashed my chest open on the battlefield...I can't explain it exactly...' he paused to look in the direction of the door. Abbie was itching to ask him to say more, but she held herself, this was his story to tell, he would tell her whatever he needed to.

'The wound in my chest was killing me, but I wasn't dying; I was bleeding profusely for days and each time Katrina tried to fix it, I would bleed even more. This caused her to weep more and move further away from me. I couldn't talk at all, neither was I dying, it felt like something was keeping me alive. I don't know what it was, until I remembered you...'

Abbie grew afraid that they were getting to her part in the story, 'Me?' Ichabod looked back at her, 'Yes. It was after several days that I remembered you...when that happened...it sounds ridiculous now, and I suppose that's what dreams are, ridiculous illusions...but when I remembered you, it was that day of the storm, when I found you accidently...' He stopped talking again, this time fixing a deep concentrated look on her features, a smile tugged on his face.

'Did I ever tell you how I felt that day?' he placed a finger under her chin to lift her face, Abbie shook her head.

'I'll never forget it. I thought I'd never see you again, and there you were, as beautiful as ever...it was a healing I never knew I needed.' She had no words to that, not a single word.

'And it was that memory,' he continued, 'that started stitching my chest together. Miraculously, I began healing. It took some days, but I healed completely. Katrina disappeared, everything disappeared. All that remained was your memory and some of your last words to me...you asked me to stay a little longer.' She remembered those words, how could she ever forget them, she never wanted him to leave that day, not after she found him again. She suddenly wanted to cry at the memory.

'In my dream,' he told her gently, 'I did stay, I stayed waiting for you to show up...'

It was only a dream, but she suspected it was a little real, part of the reason he didn't die, for that reason she had to know, 'Did I show up?' The answer frightened her, what if he said no she never did? It wouldn't make a difference now, it was just that she didn't want to neglect him even in dreams.

'I never got the chance to find out, I woke up after some waiting.'

Sighing in relief, also dropping her head, she said, 'What a dream. It sounded confusing.'

'It was uncomfortable to be honest, it felt rather real.' When she looked at him, he appeared to be trying to piece the dream together, to draw meaning from it. She decided she had to tell him the truth of what really happened to him, she couldn't keep it a secret.

'Ichabod,' she tried finding a way of starting, 'did you know that Miss Katrina's a witch?' It was much easier to start from that point, it gave her a way to introduce what happened. He listened carefully, asking questions where necessary; Abbie explained everything as best as she could, slightly getting stuck at his sort of resurrection, she still didn't know how that happened. All that she'd done, following the instructions of Miss Katrina, she told him, as well as the rebuke she received from Mr. Fredericks for falling into the trap of Miss Katrina.

'But you do love me,' he said, brows furrowed, 'It's the reason I didn't die.' He didn't understand how she didn't understand why he didn't die. The consummation did what it was meant to do because she loved him.

'No,' she disagreed, 'In the beginning I only wanted to save you, I still wasn't sure if I loved you...I only realised it when-' she stopped short. She remembered! Before they came together, things changed for her, it wasn't about saving him anymore...after he joined their hands, things changed.

'It worked,' she realised with a choked whisper, 'I thought it didn't.'

'You saved my life. Your love saved my life.'

The realisation reduced Abbie to tears, tears of happiness that were springing from a fountain inside her.

'It worked,' she whispered again. She was more surprised that it worked, she'd convinced herself that he would die because of her.

'For as long as you love me, everything will always work for us.'

If she doubted it before, she didn't after his words; she couldn't be more sure of the power of her love for him, or his for her.

'I'll always love you.' It was impossible to think that she wouldn't, not after she nearly lost him. Spurred by her own confession, she leaned into him again, winding her arms around his neck. When he chuckled, she asked him what it was that he was laughing about.

'I will always love you too, and I would love to spend all my time in this room with you Abbie, but I must confess that I'm desperately hungry. Is there a chance we could go down for dinner?'

Of course, she thought, after a full day and a half of not consuming anything, he would be hungry. His dinner suggestion gave her an idea.

'Do you mind having dinner with my grandparents and Jenny?' she was hoping with all her might that he wouldn't say no. It was her goal to show him off to her family, she wanted them to know him even a little.

'I wouldn't mind at all,' he answered. Abbie moved quickly (all tears aside), climbing off him and the bed, suddenly having turned into an excited young girl.

'Okay,' she said, getting his folded clothes, 'you need to get dressed, because...' (her face burned at the thought) 'you aren't...um, wearing anything.'

A long distance away, in a secret cave that was the meeting place for six witches and two warlocks, the last two of the expected number arrived. Lachlan Fredericks and Katrina van Tassel gave their apologies for being late, and immediately the meeting began. There was a decision to be made; as a member of a white coven, what punishment was be given to Katrina for using dark magic, and much worse, for her own benefit.

'You know the rules Katrina,' the eldest began with his part, 'we act only for the greater good of the people. Selfish ambitions belong not in this coven but in the other one. What do you have to say for yourself?'

She didn't have a defence ready to free herself, she'd told Lachlan that she was ready to accept the responsibility of her actions. 'I never meant him any harm,' was all she had.

'That's not the point,' one of the witches said, 'Before you joined this coven, you were given the choice. It is the right of every magic person to choose which coven they want to belong to, and you chose the white coven. When we swore you in, you oathed, amongst other things, against the use of love potions, harm or no harm.'

The rest of the coven reminded her just what the coven stood for, what they believed in and how she went against every rule there was. Lachlan, because he cared for her, tried to help her case, asking that they allowed her a second chance. None of them would have it.

'As it is Lachlan,' the old Knapp spoke firmly, 'we have decided on a fitting punishment for Katrina here. It was not us, but the magical laws dictate it.'

'What do you mean?' Lachlan asked, a little afraid to know the answer.

'As you well know, any member from the dark coven is punished for their deeds in Purgatory-'

Lachlan's heart jumped out. He was furious with Katrina as well, he didn't support what she did, but he thought Purgatory too harsh a punishment. 'Surely you don't mean to send her to Purgatory?'

'Katrina committed a dark act, deserving of punishment. Lachlan, you are well aware we cannot tamper with the life of any human.' He did know, that was how he knew Katrina would not escape her punishment. He spared a look of sympathy at her, feeling extremely sorry for her no matter what she didn't or did deserve, Purgatory was a cruel punishment. There wasn't anything he could do for her, not a single thing. With that thought (without a word to Katrina either), he excused himself from the council, he didn't want to be present in the later moments when Katrina was banished to Purgatory.

In the days that followed, Abbie experienced the best times of her life. She was sure Ichabod would choose to return to the camp, she even begged him plenty of times to go fight one final time for their country (it's our country, she said to him), but he wouldn't have it. Not hiding the truth, he told her he feared that his chest would be cut open by some soldier and he would die, robbing him the chance of having a life with her. Abbie tried without success convincing him that Mr. Fredericks assured them that they didn't have to worry about Katrina anymore, they could be happy without problems. Still he wouldn't give in to going to fight in the war.

'It's coming to an end,' he reasoned one lazy day at their place at the river, 'it would make absolutely no sense for me to show up in the middle.' They both knew it was completely invalid, but she let it go, she wasn't about to push him away if he didn't want to go. The truth was, he did want to go, he only wanted to remain with her more, even if he'd already spent a week with her, taking long walks, dining in the cottage with her family and helping her with whatever it was she needed to do at the church. Her presence didn't become old for him.

'I know you would love to be part of the war that changes the future of this country,' she said. He looked like he was thinking about it, finally he spoke, 'I would, but I don't dare to leave you destroyed in the event that something unfortunate happened to me. More than I'm willing to admit, I would be proud to be part of the difference, but my heart,' he placed her small hand over the area his heart sat, 'insists I remain with you.'

She laughed, drawing herself closer, nearly sitting on him, 'I love your heart, it knows how to make me happy.' He raised a brow when she started moving back, 'You love just my heart?'

'Well, I don't know of any other part of you that knows how to make me happy,' she joked. She was about to start laughing at her own joke when he caught her face between his hands and drew her lips into a deep kiss. Abbie lost her breath at once, at the same time melting into the kiss, she still had to grow tired of his kisses.

'Marry me Grace Abigail,' whispered softly near her ear. The air that had returned to her upon breaking from the kiss, left her again. His intentions for her had always been clear, yet his request still managed to catch her off guard; she clung to him as if he were a firm object in the water that was keeping her from drowning.

Feeling her stunned posture, he called her gently, not daring to move them, 'Grace?'

There was no other answer for her than an agreeing one, it was at the tip of her tongue...nothing would make her happier than a full life with him. She only wanted one more thing to make the afternoon perfect. A smile worked its way out of her, she pulled from him suddenly.

'Only if you get in the water with me,' she said. He had a fear of water, she knew he didn't like moving water at all. She knew, that he knew –by the way he was looking at her- that her answer was yes either way, however, he was willing to indulge her. Without waiting to hear his answer, she stripped down to her under dress (she wouldn't wear it back home).

'Only if you get rid of that dress,' he bargained, standing up.

**To bore you with a conclusion, I **_might_** (notice the italics!) kind of, sort of, write a sequel. I wanted to end with a wedding, I really did, but in **_case_** (notice the italics again!) I do a sequel, it has to start somewhere! **


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